I have tried to erase you
but you are already blank.

I hang your dress
in the hot south wind.

Only a rustle
of crows in the trees

as far off, our atlas
curls over the edge

like a little blue wave.


"Atlas" from Leaving Tulsa, by Jennifer Elise Foerster. © 2013 Jennifer Elise Foerster. Reprinted by permission of the University of Arizona Press.