Every day, I drive past the hotel
where I stayed when I left my wife
and came here to look for housing

with you. Last month, a man was shot
and killed there but no one is afraid
because it was targeted violence.

            I never gave myself time
to grieve the loss of what I unchose.
That’s awkward now, years into

this life. You wake me with coffee
and I cry every time you aren’t
affectionate. Yesterday, I was

transported to wiping clean
her skillet, which hung on the wall
for lack of space. She was the best

friend I ever had. I am with you
like a ramora but let the letters come.

Katherine Fallon received her MFA from Sarah Lawrence College. Her poems have appeared in Colorado Review, Permafrost, Meridian, Foundry, and others. Her chapbook, The Toothmakers’ Daughters, is available through Finishing Line Press. She teaches at Georgia Southern University, and shares domestic square footage with two cats and her favorite human, who helps her zip her dresses. She can be found at https://www.katherinefallon.com.

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1 Response to Ramora

  1. abykittiwakewrites says:


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