Two Decades Is a Distance That Matters & Other Poems

Audrey Joy Carver


the car crumpled quickly like panties on the wrong carpet.
if he really wanted to end it, there were easier ways but,
he didn’t want to pump the brakes and I wasn’t driving.
“is there still love on the other side of the windshield?”
he asked and my back told him, “I guess we’ll find out.”
you too would confuse a shard of laminated glass for
a diamond at blue hour in the glare of ambulance lights,
but only if you’ve never seen a real one before.

Two Decades is a Distance That Matters 

Baseball games and trips to the zoo –
Are they just fodder
for your father-daughter checklist?
Reckless of you to assume
I grew up bothered I was a bastard.
You think some chatter
and a necklace makes us cool,
while I swallow my truths
to get through the food?
I know you want to be more than
“Father” now but really, don’t bother.
Can you prove you know me from plaster?
Two decades is a distance that matters.

“We” meaning “I” meaning “seed”

I would steal a thousand pearls
from the minds of a thousand girls
and pay debt to my own time
to share the world with her.

Her and the body known as him –
wait, I see the trap that we are in.
To distinguish between us two
would mean there were two, when

really we are one, long-divvied.
“We” meaning “I” meaning “seed.”

Audrey Joy Carver is a New Jersey resident working in trade book publishing though she’s originally from the Pacific Northwest, where she was adopted. She has a B.A. in English Literature, and as of the time of this writing, her other work has been featured by the Bureau of Complaint, and is forthcoming in The Bitchin’ Kitsch.

*Image by Parsa on Unsplash

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