From the Archive: Anne Baldo (CAROUSEL 18)

Staff/ August 8, 2020/ Poem

ANNE BALDO

Stuck on the tongue,
sour,
like the pill
you cannot swallow

your words
are meaningless as
fragmented hieroglyphics
you talk in the calligraphy
of valentines —

beautiful but wasted.

So don’t apologize
for your absence
as you walk away
don’t say

remembering people is so hard.

Reduce us
to a mere glitch of the heart.

I will wait for you
but in the arms of other men.