I gave it all up once, got it all back, then went
And did it again. I woke in November as if
From uneasy dreams. Woke from one dream into
Another. The mornings that second first winter were
Sheer and perfect and cold as bar soap.
I had never been so young so easily.
I lived in an attic room with 4 other men and
Was wild with hope, disfigured by it. How it
Stretched like pantyhose over the lens, cutting the
Light into diamonds and stars and hearts. A new world
Smudged by cataracts of wisdom, a new world appearing older
Than reported age. I said thank you for taking away the choice.
Now just Basil, just Water, just Mountain, just Ghost.
No palm to palm, nothing holy left at all.
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Adam Spiegelman is a NYC based writer. His work has appeared in or is forthcoming from Evergreen Review, Adroit Journal, Grand Journal, and Pigeonholes, among others.
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image: Ashley Beresch. Check out more of her work on Instagram @ashleyberesch
Rejection Letters 