I ask my interlocutor to repeat
what I’ve already understood.
The last line of a poem is like a mist
imprinted into my brain. I see contours
slowly shaping into letters, like the shadow
of a leaf, where the leaf is only implied.
I always turn the page too soon.
Image by: Adam Strong
Poem by: Esther Sadoff
Bio: Esther Sadoff is a teacher and writer from Columbus, Ohio. She is the author of four chapbooks: Some Wild Woman (Finishing Line Press), Serendipity in France (Finishing Line Press), Dear Silence (Kelsay Books), and If I Hold My Breath (Bottlecap Press). She was nominated for a Pushcart Prize by Hole in the Head Review.
Backwards Trajectory 