Poem by Gregory Crosby

 

The Note

Is there one? It’s the first question, always.
It seems crucial, more essential than
the stain that some hand will have to scrub,
the tongue tucked back between lips sewn shut.
Is there a note? Did they leave a note?
Its presence more coldly consoling
than its contents, its anguished apologies,
its resignation from the tyranny

of our understanding. We don’t. We don’t.
This language is the last thing ever lost
in translation, the last animal’s howl
in the last trap. Forget the warning signs.
Is there a note? In their own hand, typed?
A slip of paper, folded? A word? Even

that. One word, even, against a page, blank.

 

Artwork © Allison Goldin

 

Gregory Crosby is the author of Spooky Action at a Distance (2014, The Operating System). His work has previously appeared in Court Green, Epiphany, Copper Nickel, Leveler, Ping Pong, Rattle, and Sink Review, among others.

Allison Goldin is an artist living in California. Her work is a collection of spontaneous drawings from the imagination. The most common link throughout her art are the semi-recognizable creatures scattered amongst and bringing together the surrounding doodles.

 

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