Josephine Gawtry

Poltergeist 

A newly laminated sign in the classroom 
prompts me to TAKE ON THE WORLD’S 
BIGGEST CHALLENGE. My man
is being elusive as always. My mom might be
at the gym. Mike said there is a deep and universal concern 
in every one of my poems: I took that as a challenge. 
It’s been five days since I was supposed to hear 
from my doctor, a veterinarian, about my dog 
aspirin. I don’t know why men want to avoid me. 
I could live in Albuquerque or Moscow or stay here.
I never break promises, and I’m generous with them, too. 
Think about the sneeze. Think about the gag. 
We are funny without trying. My life is like a horror movie because
I always find myself doing the things someone has to do. 
I am not kidding or being ironic. When I was nine, I lost my blanket 
in the Minneapolis Radisson. I have been retracing my steps ever since. 

Josephine Gawtry is a poet from Southern Virginia. She is currently an MFA candidate at Colorado State University, where she is the recipient of a Gill-Ronda Fellowship and an editorial assistant for Colorado Review. Her work can be found in Beaver Magazine, the Squawk Back, and elsewhere. She has a three-legged rabbit named Cabbage.