I Will Draw You a Map
on pitted linoleum with a quill
carved from a serving spoon.
The route, slushed and tar-pocked,
will whittle on despite
the canyons and the arguments.
There will be black rivers
to wade. Before the snow
sticks, you should bunker down in
the week I spent without you
in our apartment.
Then, there will be a road
that you drive over
and over again. I will be
there with you. I will
say, “We’ve been here before.”
And you will say, “No.
This time, the lilies are blooming.”
Kurt Olson sells books in downtown Spokane, WA. He has published other poems, too. He lives with his genius wife, Aleah, and their (redacted) cats.