Who was asking for you that you’ve come knocking on my door,
What follows: There’s no easy way to say this, you’re the damp crack
Home on a slippery night. You’ve worked your wedding ring
Down the bar towards me. Who was asking for you? You’re as unwelcome
A midnight phone call, a third straight night without sleep.
by James Scannell McCormick
Photo by David Rifkin Copyright 2009
James Scannell McCormick holds a doctorate in creative writing-poetry from Western Michigan University. His works have appeared in CutBank, The Lucid Stone, SLANT, Rattapallax, and most recently in The Pedestal. His poem “Lot (Hermes in Tulips)” was nominated for a 2008 Pushcart Prize. He currently lives in and teaches in Rochester, Minnesota.
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