Dear Elizabeth, last night I dreamt your voice asking
for another method, a new machine to sift the elements from ocean. Its shape seemed closer to constant than ever before, by which I mean there was a shadow of your syntax in every corner of the house. I tried explaining the golden ratio to your sister, but her hands never left her pockets. I've been speaking in a funeral voice all day.
Matthew Mahaney was born in one place, grew up in another, and has since lived in several more. He currently lives in Tuscaloosa, where he is an MFA candidate at the University of Alabama. Other poems appear or are forthcoming in Caketrain, Blue Mesa Review, and Sentence, among others.