The Poem You Found (or Will Find) on the Bookshelf in the Corner of the Guest Bedroom

by Kayla Pongrac Schwerer

Your corneas look like springtime
but I am lock-and-keyed to winter and
the swirling

snow. I looked
at that picture you took yesterday
and, hey, I think we’re
growing old—Polaroids hanging by
push-pins, fading and curling as

we celebrate our new sepia tone.

But I’m still tap
dancing on the curved platform
inside your right ear, like a fool with
a flask inside a pocket

unsown. Nickname me the way
baby brother Nick named me
because I feel embarrassed
to have lost my balance

when
you got down on
one knee

to tie my shoe.

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