Tuesday Night: Unarmed by Beth Gordon

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Tuesday Night: Unarmed 

No amount of dragon blood, multi-deck 
tarot card predictions or perfect drops 
of winter wine will hold you here, the road 
your only constant, the road and the way
you always add dark beer and cinnamon 
to chili. I write notes in the margins 
of all your books, the back of liquor store 
receipts, the bottom of the whiskey jar 
you will leave behind. I will wash the sheets, 
scald them free of your lemon-minted skin, 
pretend the days between the days are not 
real, pretend I am the girl in a peach
nightgown stained with coffee, changing from black 
shoes to brown, wrapping scarves and necklaces 
around my sad throat, rearranging chairs
until I’ve forgotten where you last sat.

​

Beth Gordon is a poet, mother and grandmother currently living in Asheville, North Carolina. Her poems have been published in numerous journals and nominated for Best of the Net, Pushcart and the Orison Anthology. She is the author of the chapbook, Morning Walk with Dead Possum, Breakfast and Parallel Universe, published by Animal Heart Press. She is also Poetry Editor of Gone Lawn.

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