DEAR MISS GONE by Ben Purkert

I’m hardly alone—
like most men, I’ll gaze

at anything to avoid looking
inward. Like a stream
reflects what surrounds
but never the face of

itself. I mean force, I mean—
forget it. Let’s cast ourselves
into a pond: a still surface
standing forever without

a break. Let’s freeze at
the tipping point when you
leave me, here in the heart
of this song. At least

metaphors have my back;
at least the swallows outside
my window sound really into
each other. I hope they fly

so far south, they don’t
remember a thing.


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About Ben Purkert

Ben Purkert
Ben Purkert's first poetry collection, For the Love of Endings, is forthcoming from Four Way Books in March 2018. His poems have appeared in The New Yorker, Kenyon Review, Ploughshares, Boston Review, Agni, Best New Poets 2012, and elsewhere. He currently teaches creative writing at Rutgers New Brunswick.