← v14n2, Fall 2015
Poetry · Volume 14, Number 2

Latent

When my friend abandons Norway for south Thailand his voice

comes lighter through the screen telling me to visit while a half

the distance of his life from mine until his girlfriend perches on

the armchair with such perfect balance staring at my face: I think

you could be very pretty.But there’s no money and no money

and my wife returns to bed so bright one morning, her softness

waking me, the piss test positive. And just as well. By then

my friend has moved, his girlfriend gone, violence increasing

throughout his province: Last week they fished a girl like you

out of the canal, such a waste. And more to say before bird cries

become screeches through his open window as rain comes on fast

filling our screens with static, our connection lost to stillness

in this single room, my small apartment between bar alleys, all those

cut-throughs pitted and uneven and too often spotted in the night

with women going out alone or drunk and coming loudly home or

women shoved and coming up against one stone wall or another.