January 2011
Satellite
A new poem
by Matthew Dickman
|
I’m sitting beneath the live oak, wishing the plane blinking above me was a satellite that would shoot images of Darin back down into my brain so I could print them out and paste them on the wall. I have to keep looking at this one picture of him to remember how his jaw was and on which side of the moon he parted his hair.… |
We hope you enjoy this excerpt.
To read the full piece, please purchase a copy of the magazine from The McSweeney’s Store.
All contents copyright © 2003-2013
The Believer and its contributors.
All rights reserved.