THE WAY WE DISSOLVED / *image by Amalie Flynn*

that night we forgot for a while
the broken country where we lived
in hearts discontent walking backward
into unicorns, rainbows, butterflies
grazing beauty until blood oaths shattered
and you left, the hard leaves crying out
under your step it was good once, you said
well, thank you for that, you touched my face
a scribbler’s tender touch, is there a better way
than this, you said, this nuclear family two dogs
a cat the twins asleep until the rage of words
tore at the roots    the spiny hurts
too late for I love you. . . . that last evening
spread out against the sky
with mathematical certainty    gone
not even so long, it’s been good
to know ya
unique, I think, the way we dissolved
into yards of ancient lies it wasn’t deceit
no not a pity party not even a rave
of dances and songs just two shills
selling our micro myths glasses raised
so here’s to the years left after you left
I wonder how my new lover
will like my plastic cheeks
my potty mouth my breasts
of steel    even now as I scour
the rooms of your scent
where we died in an instant
in this freeze-frame
of memento mori I still
turn down the covers
and wait

Gladys Justin Carr

Gladys Justin Carr is an award-winning poet whose work has been published in over 100 literary magazines and journals. She is a recovering publishing executive who dropped out of Corporate America to write full time. Elected to Phi Beta Kappa, she was the Nicolson Trustee Fellow at Smith College and the Wilcox Fellow at Cornell. A Pushcart Prize nominee, winner of the Toadlily Press Quartet Chapbook Prize, and recipient of a California Poetry Society Award, she is the author of the chapbook Augustine's Brain--The Remix. Her debut poetry collection, brunch, is forthcoming, as is her short-short fiction work, Hopper's Women. She lives in New York City and East Hampton, NY, with her partner and a formidable Havanese dog.