No Poem by Emily Walker

No, I haven’t seen you in years,
But I still hear your voice,
Pressed against my right earlobe.

I wanted to thank you
For taking my heart, slicing it into pieces,
Horizontal and vertical, the streets of Manhattan,
And forcing them outside, into the wind of the Mississippi night,
To scatter on the gravel roads.

Your lips still sink into my shoulder,
I resist you; I push off your memory
Every time I fall into my cold bed at night,
With the white sheets.