Published on Academy of American Poets (https://poets.org)


Not Here, Exactly

I found your letter
in the pocket

of a borrowed goat.

It showed me
the way—

small as an eye.

One mountain tried
to taste another,

then spit it out.

Your letter called
all the other letters

“friends.”

You too were
my friend,

soft as a melting
or melted nail.

Dear little cage,
dark plum.

Credit


Originally published in The Year of Yellow Butterflies (Hanging Loose Press, 2015). Reprinted with permission of the author.

Author


Joanna Fuhrman

Date Published: 2015-07-15

Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/not-here-exactly