by Ellen Adams

Yes, I went looking for the poem.

  I searched i can't poem.
  I searched infidelity poem.

Webs bring approximation—but answers?

  The answer:
  No, you will not sit down to your home's kitchen table to

(Tell her!) tell her:

  I can't, poem.
  Infidelity, poem.

Goodbye Poem:

  I wanted to be spared these searches. I wanted you and your
  kitchen, me in your city, me on your trains and in your elbow

crook. Crook of your—

  your poem, she's published everywhere. My love,
  writes your poem. The webs, they read. A thread.

(From a stall, I write you: I was here.)

Ellen Adams is a Lambda Literary Fellow and Ploughshares Emerging Writer, with work in Black Warrior Review, Kenyon Review OnlineCrazyhorse, and elsewhere. A graduate of Brooklyn College’s MFA program and grantee of Elizabeth George Foundation and Artist Trust, she’s revising a novel, developing a book-length work of nonfiction, and recording a new album. See for more information.