EXCERPT

The Negotiation

 I start small: a pair of knitting needles. You
counter: two tickets from last Thanksgiving’s
Lions game. I raise you my grandfather’s
pocketknife and you see me with the Star

Trek coffee mug you stole from the neighbors.
We each take a shot of Jäger. Things begin
in earnest. I offer every sweater
my ex ever gave me, the Chopin waltzes

on my bedside table, my entire collection
of Thomas Mann. You offer jazz,
a crate of Bitburger, one small red house
on Plymouth Road. I offer a hand

and you offer a bicep, I a tract
of clavicle and you a smooth white
hip bone. We begin to discuss services:
laundry and lock-picking, copyediting

and espionage. Both of us offer ourselves
as translators. Neither of us wants to think
about what we might need translated. We
are shedding our lives like leaves in winter and

suddenly we are both naked, skin and muscle and eyes
the size of continents, some worlds heaped
between us, neither of us yet satisfied.
You believe what I want is your heart. I believe

you are mistaken. What I want from you is as simple
as waiting: carve from the cartilage in your ear
a mirror. Hold it before my mouth
and listen closely to what I have to say next.

ABOUT THE POET

Patrick Kindig is a dual MFA/PhD candidate at Indiana University, where he writes poems and studies American literature. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Beloit Poetry Journal, Court Green, BLOOM, FUGUE, and elsewhere.

ABOUT THE COVER ARTIST

Nicci Mechler splits her time between exploring, telling tales, and printmaking. She lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with a pack of roomies & rescue animals specializing in troublemaking and joy.