WE MEET BY CHANCE IN THE FOREST

 

I stand in the crowd at a hanging 

 

and sense you watching me from a tower

 

we’re postal workers who like the sound of each other’s voice

our love is doomed

 

we dance in a log cabin

our minds warp like wires

 

you paint yourself into a corner of some woman’s bedroom 

you see me across the duck pond and do not wave

 

I curse your name in the shower

 

you quit your job

I move two towns over

but still list your flaws 

on my placemat at the diner

 

the seasons pass with little fanfare

 

one day I see your picture in the paper in the LOST section

 

we meet by chance in the forest

Rachel B. Glaser