Let Us Talk About It as Though It Existed
Draw a square in the dust on my forehead.The square should be crooked and quietlike a house before its collapse. No carpetsin this house. Many drawings.I would like to gather the drawingsone by one into my bed.Folded like a leaflet, or like a seatin an empty theater, or like armsin a drafty room, I will sleep with themin the sleep that comes after countingextension cords. The drawings will dreamof faulty wiring and dimming lights.
Copyright © 2022 by Eva Heisler.
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission.
Eva Heisler has published two books of poetry: Reading Emily Dickinson in Icelandic and Drawing Water. Honors include the Poetry Society of America’s Emily Dickinson Award and fellowships at MacDowell and Millay Arts. Poems have appeared in Bomb, Crazyhorse, Colorado Review, The Grist, Heavy Feather Review, The Ilanot Review, Indiana Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, and Poetry Northwest. She was co-winner of the 2021 Poetry International Prize.
Launched in 1956 (with the first issue featuring work by Langston Hughes, William Carlos Williams, E. E. Cummings, Henry Miller, Bertolt Brecht, and Mark van Doren), Colorado Review is a national literary journal featuring contemporary fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and book reviews. Each issue is approximately 200 pages. Published three times a year, CR has a circulation of approximately 1,100, is carried by university and public libraries across the country, and is distributed by Kent News to independent bookstores. The journal receives over 9,000 manuscript submissions each academic year.
Colorado Review is committed to the publication of contemporary creative writing. We are equally interested in work by both new and established writers. CR does not publish genre fiction, nor do we subscribe to a particular literary philosophy or school of poetry or fiction.