In an MRI Tube at Roanoke Memorial Hospital

by Cory Crouser

 

I have pressed chests with death

across a hitch-gait summer

of contrasts

and machines,

and before

and again

in every posture of my life

I have smelled the dirt of ruin

on its face

(that is my face)

and kissed it without tongue

so far.

Cory Crouser (he/him) holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Hollins University in Roanoke, Virginia. His work, which frequently explores questions of humankind's relationship to the natural landscape, has appeared in Empyrean, CavanKerry, and Hare's Paw. He live in a very old cabin on a modest number of acres in Virginia's Blue Ridge Mountains with his wife, Emily, and cat, Toaster.

 

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