[i haven’t been to west virginia since my grandfather died]

i haven’t been to west virginia  since my grandfather died

            next time i go   i want to stand atop dorsey’s knob

holding hands with weyes blood

                              across from mountaineer mall

after we’ve come up with

                                              a new word for

sunset

                                          yet

           i’ll settle for a pair

       of hands      gentle

               as the hospice nurse thumbing the iv

       clockwise under

       the skin of

       my grandfather’s hand

            the last thing i remember

                        hearing him say was

                                     my arms hurt son

in a drawl floundered

            by morphine

                        & now my elbows crack

       when i extend mine out to heaven

Matt Mitchell is an intersex Northeast Ohio writer trying to make his work as beautiful as Ken Griffey Jr.’s swing. He’d love to meet up at your local coffee shop (not Starbucks, because the aforementioned poet’s partner’s family owns a coffee shop and the aforementioned poet refuses to cross enemy lines) and talk about how the Thompson Twins’ “Hold Me Now” is the quintessential pop banger. His chapbook, you & me & the pink moon & these portraits, is forthcoming from Ghost City Press.