How far are you
from the bright walls
of this Berlin,
made so by us
in the mercy
of our labors?
Into the bloodstream
something has slipped,
the other cells,
I've seen the films
they kill you in.
My illness had fallen into remission,
and through the hallways of the Berkshires
we drove home from the hospital.
Your shoulders floated in the dark,
and the small hands resting in your lap
were cupped as if to hold a head.
Thirty miles outside town
the velvet bodies of deer appeared,
strewn against the barrier.
1 A huntsman who had witnessed the goddess Artemis bathing, and as a punishment was transformed into a stag and devoured by his own hounds.
Adam Dressler graduated Harvard with a degree in Classics in '97 and has
since become an unexpected businessman, selectively selling his soul for
stock. The endless rows of unread books lining his shelves are his
strongest reminder of his true, lost literary calling. He has taken
workshops from Carl Phillips, Henri Cole, and Lucie Brock-Broido.