Poem in Which Nothing is Left but Survivor’s Guilt
- Poem in Which Nothing is Left but Survivor’s Guilt
The clamor in my head undoes me.Something pecking its way from an egg:something almost remembered.I stumble down the hall, the ceilingbegins to crack,the counter in the kitchencalves like a glacier.You can see the horsehair through the plaster,the failures through the clutter.The capillaries flare.The skin beneath the skin awaits the blister,prepares to grow a shell, a fallout shelter,knows how matter goes.Suddenly the morning drops out of nowhere,cakes cave in, flowers flower and wither.Suddenly I’m standing herewith nothing in my handsand a house around my feet.The voice of something trapped escaping:an absence found in the rubble, a nail holelost in a wall. [End Page 103]
matthew westbrook’s poems have appeared in Alaska Quarterly Review, Measure, 32 Poems, Poetry East, The Hopkins Review, Cloudbank, and Poetry, among other journals. Past honors include two Individual Artist Awards in poetry from the Maryland State Arts Council.
