by Mike Meraz
there is a piece
of chicken in the
fridge for you.
and Stanley already
ate today - please feed
him tomorrow.
Love, b
Stanley was our cat.
that was the last letter
I received from her
now she is in Minnesota
with some paraplegic (old)
man, okay, he is not really paraplegic
but he is old, and one day she was here
and now she is gone.
I just realized this today
while opening up an old dresser.
her clothes were hanging there,
her little suede jacket.
I thought, “fuck this jacket”
I hated it, but then I realized
my hatred was only love
expressed in hurt.
there is a piece
of chicken in the
fridge for you…
this was all I had left
of her, of her warmth:
cold chicken, and a note,
a few odd
unwanted clothes,
and a memory
of love
in New Orleans.
even in the end of love
there is sometimes
a little love.
Mike Meraz is a poet from Los Angeles who currently lives in New Orleans. He is the author of two books of poetry Black-Listed Poems and All Beautiful Things Travel Alone. Both are available at Lulu.com and Amazon.com. He is also the editor of Black-Listed Magazine.
this is a nice change from all the fucking stories
ReplyDeleteand that is a statement I never thought I'd ever write.
nice work mike. as always
really good
ReplyDeletegreat one!!
ReplyDeletegreat. the chicken thing. wonderful.
ReplyDeletethat last stanza is perfect and perfectly true.
ReplyDeleteLove Bx