Postcard from the Knife-Thrower’s wife
August 24 – Maysville, KY
A poem by Alex Stolis

Postcard from the Knife-Thrower’s wife
August 24 – Maysville, KY

I got back from a walk before the thunder and dark clouds
rolled in; was thinking of you
and how many names there are for hunger.

On the day we wed, my dress was soaked with rain, my hair 
a tangled mess; you smiled, looked up at the beauty and ruin
of the bruised sky, and kissed me.

The next morning you made me breakfast and I had to hold back
my laughter as you burned the toast; you feigned a scowl,
saying you were distracted by my legs.

I never told you, but I’d catch you watching me sing
while making dinner; your head tilted toward the kitchen,
lips moving silently.

Today, I’m alone. The sun peeks out, a cardinal flashes red
in our crabapple tree, and I wonder; how many names
there are for grief.

About the Author:

Alex Stolis lives in Minneapolis. His chapbook, Postcards from the Knife-Thrower’s Wife is forthcoming in 2024 from Louisiana Literature Press

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