A Stark Omission 

Issue 13

Eighteen tiles 
on the ceiling 
and ten bouncing balls 
on the screen 
when he explained 
your test results. 
The nurse’s nails 
were like ballet slippers 
when she handed me 
the box of tissues.  
And I want 
to go back 
to this morning 
when I had 
the privilege 
of cursing 
your name.
 
Don’t tell me 
you love me 
anymore. 
I should have left 
when I still 
had the chance. 
I should have left 
when you brought 
me coffee 
in bed 
with those 
goddamn eyes. 
I should have walked 
when I saw 
our faces 
kissing 
in the moon. 
 
You failed 
to mention 
in your profile 
that one day 
you’d die. 
I only wanted 
a lover. Maybe
a little excitement. 
But this? 
Making me laugh 
every day?
Getting angry 
on my behalf? 
Marveling 
at the photos 
I took
of the pelicans 
we saw 
in the same old 
stupid park? 
The one
with that awful lady 
droning on every day
about her husband Keith. 
I swear to God 
if Keith outlives you, 
I’m leaving.  
 
I hate it 
when they say 
it’s better to 
have loved and lost 
than to never 
have loved at all. 
Because the truth is 
 
I wish I’d never met you. 
I wish this love 
had never been.  
I wish I never 
felt your thick arms 
around my waist, 
and I wish my chest 
never jumped 
at the sight 
of your dimples
ushering me 
into this life 
as though it was 
waiting for us 
all along. 

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Jessica Taylor is a college professor in California who writes poetry in her free time. Her work explores raw, emotional themes, often in free verse. The poems in this submission delve into the complex emotions of betrayal, echoing her personal reflections on love and loss across distinctive life experiences.

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