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The First Day (1981)

Beth Gordon

The sofa was brown: on this we can agree. I do not agree with your roses. Your guitar was blue. As blue as every lightning-ed sky I was waiting to see. Your guitar was blue: on this we can agree. I agree that your lips were not blue. Roundabout. Intersection. Waterfall. On this we do not agree. Me as a sleeping possum. You as the chord that wakes me from my dream. I could tell you that I remember every word you said. Carnival. Backgammon. You are not in the bedroom. Not in the laundromat stealing quarters for one more phone call. We were there. I know what you were wearing. Cut-off jean shorts. Red bowling shirt. Black Converse hi-tops. Your hair too long for our mothers. Have you figured it out yet? That this is a love story. That this is me forgetting all your sins. That the sofa is long crushed & buried. Also the roses. That I stole your guitar as I was leaving.

Beth Gordon is a poet, mother and grandmother currently living in Asheville, NC. She is the author of several books including The Water Cycle (Variant Literature, 2022). Beth is Managing Editor of Feral: A Journal of Poetry and Art, Assistant Editor of Animal Heart Press, and Grandma of Femme Salve Books. Twitter and Instagram @bethgordonpoet.

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