Eraser Marks on a Chalkboard
—poetry by KG Newman

The reporter asks did you sleep with the intern?
Unrelated, the masseuse asks is this deep enough?
Somewhere else, the waiter asks can I fill you up?
In a file in my mind, she asks do you feel alone?
Can I get you anything to drink? But when I finally say yes
and invite the glass to my lips, I’m stepping out the door
to a street I’ve seen before, one abuzz with many trucks, trucks
that sound like they’re stuffed with many weighty boxes, boxes
that smack into each other like
conflicting sentiments.
Unrelated, a thin-haired man on a park bench finally sighs deep
and birds ascend away.
Somewhere else, she’s upstairs
rifling through the bathroom drawer
for who knows what,
a brush maybe,
an Ambien,
a cleaved yellow sprig.

KG Newman is the editor of a high school sports website,, and lives in Aurora, Colo. He is an Arizona State University graduate and his first collection of poems, While Dreaming of Diamonds in Wintertime is available on Amazon.