Magazine | January 28, 2019, Issue

Poetry

(Alexandros Avramidis/Reuters)

OTHER DISTANCES

A perfect candidate for Miss
Morbidity, I often wake
at 4 a.m. to hear the hiss
of life evaporating from the lake

of itself. The cat, a charcoal smudge
on blue pillows, smothers me in fur.
Blind and deeply in need of touch,
he meets my terror

inch for inch. I never go downstairs
to watch TV or have a snack.
I lie still, trying not to think of stars
or other distances, the track

of years and the level crossing,
only my blood turning and tossing.

Jessica Hornik — Jessica Hornik is the author of the collection A Door on the River (Chatwin Books).

In This Issue

Articles

Features

Books, Arts & Manners

Sections

Letters

Letters

Readers respond to Kevin Williamson's thoughts on wearing a suit to work and Graham Hillard's essay on naming churches.
The Week

The Week

Planned Parenthood mistreats its pregnant employees? You should see what they do to their pregnant customers.
Poetry

Poetry

"A perfect candidate for Miss Morbidity, I often wake at 4 a.m. to hear the hiss of life evaporating from the lake..."

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