In order to view this poem with the line breaks the author intended, we suggest reading it on a computer screen or in the landscape orientation on your phone or tablet.

Against Isolation

If I could take that clear night back
when I assumed love in a movie theater
could rescue me from a dull Code Red,
would the tall pine trees still have stood
watching off Strawberry Lane? If I
could take you in your faux sailor suit
& slight tan on a sailboat ride,
ditching my new white Honda
purchased at the dealership from Stan,
who set us up blind, we would’ve gone
to the lake, and untied a ride from a dock,
rope from the cleats. If I could take
your hunger, since you’d like to fork
catfish, we’d eat at Murrell’s,
then navigate to the glass factory.
The way your fingers would touch the skinny
legs of overstocked champagne flutes
as if they were tiny rescue animals you’d
want, and how I would’ve fed you, “Yes,
absolutelys.” Back then, I was 24, living in
Shreveport, barely getting into the economy,
buying packs of cigarettes for my neighbor if
she agreed to cook before we watched
Angela Lansbury in Murder, She Wrote.
My TV tray whispered that I could have
every ash-laden seat float away, dark buoys,
too many ragged edges that clung.

—
John Milkereit lives in Houston, Texas, working as a mechanical engineer. He has completed a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing at the Rainier Writing Workshop. In December 2023, Kelsay Books published his most recent collection of poems, Lost Sonnets for My Unvaccinated Lover.

Know anyone who might appreciate reading John’s poem?
Why not share the link to this page?

Have you read these poems:
1913 by Craig Cotter
A Moment of Art by Royal Rhodes

Table of Contents