To Nostalgia by Donna J. Gelagotis Lee

Long face of Nostalgia with a rubber 
eye—a tap on my bones—
I saw you looking at me,

trying to persuade. I
didn’t want to look in your
direction. But I feel you closing in,

your breath on my shoulder,
then a stirring in my body.
Go find a day job where

you won’t bother anyone, something
remote, like a sheepherder. Go roam
the mountains and give me 

a passing nod. Leave my past in a shack
with no electricity and only
spring water, a few shrubs.

And don’t think when you wander close
to my home that you can stop by
and strike up a conversation—