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  Last week he was a dishwasher who his coworkers called Ricky. Today he’s a day laborer named Eddie, clearing a pair of fallen trees off a new build’s lawn and fixing up a large garden. Rotting plank ripped out, new plank inserted.
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  She holds the dice up to me. “For good luck?”
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  I hungered into that quiet until— there—unbelievable!— a wolf spider scuttled onto a leaf.
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  I no longer harangue every desk nurse at every hospital for a taxonomic breakdown of her bills. I don’t ask for the numbers of the Benadryl, the water cups, the abdominal touches done with gloved hands. I am the most American I’ve ever been—she costs what she costs and I eat it.

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Poetry / The Weekly

December 13, 2022

Let my heart be a sanctuary for all the things I have betrayed.

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- Our Theseus by Nathan Jefferson
  Last week he was a dishwasher who his coworkers called Ricky. Today he’s a day laborer named Eddie, clearing a pair of fallen trees off a new build’s lawn and fixing up a large garden. Rotting plank ripped out, new plank inserted.
- Robbing the Pillars by Marie Goyette
  Ruth stood on the narrow iron bridge, gripping her father’s obsidian necklace, and wondered how many years it would take before the river wore them both down to nothing.
- Roll for Love by Cidney Mayes
  She holds the dice up to me. “For good luck?”
- The Call by Eben E. B. Bein
  I hungered into that quiet until— there—unbelievable!— a wolf spider scuttled onto a leaf.
- Saturation by Claire Oleson
  I no longer harangue every desk nurse at every hospital for a taxonomic breakdown of her bills. I don’t ask for the numbers of the Benadryl, the water cups, the abdominal touches done with gloved hands. I am the most American I’ve ever been—she costs what she costs and I eat it.

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