What Rough Beast | Poem for December 18, 2019

Erin Lynn Marsh
I have decoupaged love poems

to the back of my eyelids so I can see them

even while sleeping. My alarm
wakes me at 7:30 a.m. by blaring

catchy pop music by the latest boy band.
I see hearts everywhere in February—

pastel blue shapes on mugs stacked
at the local coffeeshop call to me.

I am seated in a corner, casting
desperate spells—so ashamed

of my relief when the handsome barista
ignores me and only talks to my pretty friend.

I can no longer aspire to be an object
of affection, someone’s other half,

their reason for living. I want to fall
asleep to the orange cat’s purr, ignore

the thud of her knocking the heart-
shaped music box to the floor.

Erin Lynn Marsh is the author of the poetry collection Disability Isn’t Sexy (Jules’ Poetry Playhouse Publications, 2019). Her poems have appeared in Post Road MagazineSugar House ReviewPaper DartsEmrys Journal, and the anthology Hers: Poets Speak (while we still can), Vol. 2 (Beatlick Press and Jules’ Poetry Playhouse Publications, 2017), edited by Jules Nyquist. She lives and works in Bemidji, MN.

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