"Sometimes a note gets lost" by Genevieve Kaplan

Sometimes a note gets lost

in a pocket or
other fold of fabric
it goes in the wash
finds itself well-rubbed  

or not yet written
only thought, so
the words were never set
were always set 

I kept them and listened 

the ear just pricks a bit
you can’t hear the difference
with your ears
turned inward 

no one can hear / say
there’s been a slice
taken from my ribcage, there’s
a motive missing from my heart 

my spine doesn’t work
to hold my shoulders
any more
loss is like that

Genevieve Kaplan

Genevieve Kaplan is the author of (aviary) (Veliz Books, 2020); In the ice house (Red Hen Press, 2011), winner of the A Room of Her Own Foundation’s poetry publication prize; and three chapbooks. Her poems can be found in Third Coast, Spillway, Denver Quarterly, South Dakota Review, Poetry, and other journals. Kaplan edits the Toad Press International chapbook series, publishing contemporary translations of poetry and prose. She lives in southern California.

Headshot: Sean Bernard

Photo Credit: Staff