Impossible Motel Room 37A

Joshua Ware
· in ,

Your forearms are made of daggers, but in a motel room they are made of intensity: I feel you like the ocean you feel me. A motel room cannot transform your forearms because it is a motel room; a motel room can transform your forearms because it is the real motel room of poetry. I only know this because you and I sit in a motel room at dusk, window open, lights turned off; and in motel light, you tell me about the moon. At dusk fade, we drown in our glow.

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Joshua Ware lives in Lincoln, NE where he is completing his doctorate in poetry at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. His first book, Homage to Homage to Homage to Creeley won the 2010 Furniture Press Poetry Prize and was published this summer. He is the author several chapbooks, and his work has appeared in such journals as American Letters & Commentary, Colorado Review, New American Writing, and Quarterly West.