I still find myself talking
about you in present tense
like you’re still here
to add tales to our story,
but our verbs occupy
the past now,
a dying language
where I am the last
longing for just one more
Laura Winkelspecht is a poet who doesn’t write enough poetry and feels really guilty about it.
We watch under fluorescent lights
learning to restart a faulty heart,
while I fret about the day
I must hold the paddles to the chest
of Joe in Accounting
with his red face and big laugh
or maybe the woman in the lunchroom
who eats Lean Cuisine
while playing solitaire on her phone—
or maybe it will be me
with a group of people
while my heart waits.
Laura Winkelspecht is a left-handed poet and writer from Wisconsin whose last name might be longerthan a one sentence poem.