Adele Evershed

Erratum

I tell you—
I have a longing to visit ancient places—abbeys, castles, standing stones—us
And you say—
There is no romance in old stones only wounds and sacrifices
But that’s what you said we would never know
You told me you wanted to sing or recite poems about me
Like a love song, like I was a summer’s day
So everyone would know you’d found the one

I tell you—
I think about casting my torn self on the waves—floating away on a riptide
And you say—
Aren’t I just romanticizing drowning for the sake of poetry?
But that’s what you used to love about me
You told me I should write my words on the air
Like a map, like a contrail
So you would always be able to find me

You tell me—
It’s not you—it’s me—that I’ve become blurred at the edges—and difficult to see
And you say—
You have to leave while you can still see yourself
So you go but you don’t slam the door
Yet the Buddha you bought in Thailand falls anyway
And I wonder if that’s poetic
But I say…nothing…nothing at all

Adele Evershed was born in Wales. Her prose and poetry have been widely published in journals and anthologies such as Every Day Fiction, Grey Sparrow Journal, Anti Heroin Chic, Gyroscope, and Janus Lit. Adele has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize for poetry and short fiction and Best of the Net for poetry. Finishing Line Press published her first poetry chapbook, Turbulence in Small Places. Her second collection, The Brink of Silence is available from Bottlecap Press.