It all goes to shit the second we lie down:
the blueberries left in the sink, a house key
never returned. An old lover’s new lover –
fivefootnine, blonde hair, dark eyebrows,
tight black skirt, forearms resting on the side
rail of the pool table that night you walk
into the bar with your new lover, who, as of
this writing, is no longer your lover, either.
We think we have it all ironed out, this sheet
of time that we can smooth with both hands,
when really the only thing that’s keeping us
on this planet is this: where we stand,
how hard it spins, what moves through
our bodies, how much of it we get to keep.
“The Imaginary Order” is the second of four poems by Andrea Rogers to be featured every other week on The Negatives.
Andrea Rogers holds a Ph.D. in Poetry from Georgia State University. Her work appears in Odradek, The 11th Hour, and elsewhere. She and her band, Night Driving in Small Towns, have appeared in features by Rolling Stone and NPR.
