Diary of Ways We Died

The news isn’t local enough,
doesn’t cover the cotton curtains
moving like breath in the windows

or notice how we fell victim to Freon
leaking from the fridge, or fallout
from Fukushima blown west

to our apartment. We couldn’t be bothered
to close the windows; it was spring
and the air was cold but not painful.

The neighbors were silent.

We who watched the world so closely
never heard Death’s human-hair slippers
whisper across the wooden floor


Michael Mercurio received his MFA from Lesley University and serves as the Associate Editor of the Naugatuck River Review, a journal of narrative poetry. He has been known to steadfastly defend esoteric and/or eccentric opinions on Twitter @FledglingLedge, or in longer form at poetmercurio.com.


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