Evan Vandermeer
This Too
With slight reflux, she likes to be held upright over my shoulder, and relishes the view. We kiss her cheeks so much they’ve begun to rash. Like me, she’s slowly but ineluctably balding. Like her mother, she turns lobster red when distressed. But her eyes are mine—a stark ocean blue.
first winter. . . so soon, a mound of outgrown clothes
About the Author
Evan Vandermeer lives in South Bend, Indiana, where he completed his MA in English at Indiana University South Bend. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Twyckenham Notes, Eunoia Review, Jersey Devil Press, Grand Little Things, MacQueen’s Quinterly, and elsewhere. His haiku and haibun have appeared or are forthcoming in Frogpond, Modern Haiku, Presence, contemporary haibun online, and elsewhere.