Waiting for My Wife
As the thumbprint of every car
is pressed to the night,
I look up from the book in my
lap. It’s then the pages
begin to turn on their own
in that way books have.
This one wants me to know it
is just as beautiful, just as
cruel. Look how its white
margins hold that story hostage.
—Ron Koertge
—found in Alaska Quarterly Review (Vol. 17, No. 1 & 2; Fall & Winter 1998)