I erase my ex-husband’s name here
because no one knows me. Maybe time
gets away from me. The clock is numberless.
I like to think there’s a sudden hush when I coast
through the door in my cloud of vanilla. I might be wearing
too much eyeliner. Do I seem earnest?
Colin the bartender says a ghost sits in this booth.
When one of the charred men of this bar
takes me in the parking lot—after closing
but before Colin tosses a bucket of ice in the alley—
and drives me to the high woods where
the ghost of Belle Starr watches me bridled,
raped, and tusked through with a hunting knife,
I’ll come back to the Wilburton Tap
and sit here in shadowed booth
with the perfect vantage point
to watch Colin’s nimble hands
and gray-blue eyes grow old.
Leah Sewell is assistant editor at Coconut Poetry, an MFA candidate at the University of Nebraska, and a book designer, poet and mother. Her work has appeared in such publications as [PANK], Midwestern Gothic, and Weave Magazine and was nominated for a Pushcart in 2012. Her chapbook, “Birth in Storm,” was the 2013 winner of the Emerge Publications Chapbook Competition.