Falling
by Vivian Wagner
He only saw the “I,”
not the “we.” One cup
in the cupboard.
45 years together.
Who cares where
you put my iPod.
She held him like a
Ming vase covered in feces.
Nostalgia.
Upset because we argue?
Peace and quiet:
The grave’s caress.
not the “we.” One cup
in the cupboard.
45 years together.
Who cares where
you put my iPod.
She held him like a
Ming vase covered in feces.
Nostalgia.
Upset because we argue?
Peace and quiet:
The grave’s caress.
Vivian Wagner lives in New Concord, Ohio, where she’s an associate professor of English at Muskingum University. Her work has appeared in Slice Magazine, Muse/A Journal, Forage Poetry Journal, Pittsburgh Poetry Review, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, Gone Lawn, The Atlantic, Narratively, The Ilanot Review, Silk Road Review, Zone 3, Bending Genres, and other publications. She’s the author of a memoir, “Fiddle: One Woman, Four Strings,” and “8,000 Miles of Music”; a full-length poetry collection, “Raising”; and three poetry chapbooks: “The Village,” “Making,” and “Curiosities.”