Years & Years Later I Am Still Not That Girl, Laughing by Alexis Rhone Fancher

Years & Years Later I Am Still Not That Girl, Laughing

Monday.
All that green-eyed sorrow
spilling out like a landslide.

Tuesday.
Inside our last time:

You looked my way.
I took off my shirt.
Pressed my tits against the glass.

Wednesday.
The snow ghosts schuss
in my dreams,

a dirge.

Thursday.
The phone rings.
The waitresses add up.

I sit on the counter, skirt hiked high,
like one of those girls who even now
keeps calling and calling.

Friday.
Too many people loved you.

Saturday.
I spend it not mourning you.

The way you avalanched
downhill into oblivion.

Oblivious.

Sunday.
“I don’t know how you get up in the morning,”
you said to me after you died.

For Susan Hayden

by Alexis Rhone Fancher, first published in Askew.

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Editor’s Note: The fractured stanzas of this poem reflect a fractured relationship. The narrator doesn’t need to tell us exactly who “you” is because the imagery feels universal.