— after Emily Dickinson

When the fly landed
on the crumb of me,
he deposited his halves
and drank my raw dew.
I put my love away
the morning I prayed for her death:
the winds—futile; the moon—charted;
my tongue—on the frost your flesh becomes.
Remind me: I cannot fit to the frame.
I cannot breathe like midnight.
I am no longer everything
that ticked

—stopped—stared…

Nicole Yurcaba

 

Nicole Yurcaba is a Ukrainian-American poet and essayist, who teaches at Bridgewater College and serves as the Assistant Director to the Bridgewater International Poetry Festival. Her poems and essays have appeared in The Atlanta Review, The Lindenwood Review, Whiskey Island, Raven Chronicles, and many other online and print journals.

© 2020