Carter Rekoske

anywhere

he does not know how
to be the little spoon

for anyone—not even
            himself, not even the world.

when he walks through
            the meadow, he does not

know any of their
            names—not even the flowers,

not even the winds.
            and immediately the zinnias

are so sad—he does not know
            them, he does not notice them. 

and the zephyrs quicken,
            and he walks against them

toward the edge
            of the world where he looks

back and does not find himself
            anywhere—not even the world,

not even the zinnias.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Carter Rekoske is an MFA student at Louisiana State University. You can find his poems in the Atlanta Review, Common Ground Review, Sinking City and elsewhere. He currently serves as a poetry editor for New Delta Review.