artwork for Peter Krumbach's poem Nostalgia

Nostalgia
Peter Krumbach

Those were the nights when stars offered themselves
for a reasonable price. Without mirrors no one knew
the color of their eyes, and everyone wore sandals.
If there was winter, it came merely to show us
the filigree of snow. For months Gods wrote sestinas,
sipped mead, and didn’t drive. The moon lounged
in an abandoned bus. The truth didn’t fret.
If there was a Devil, he crouched in the reliquary
between what we said and what we meant. Yes,
we were shorter then, and didn’t live long. But that
wasn’t the point. The point was not to be frightened
by the possibilities of joy. Those days you kept
marrying me while eating a peach. Those days
you said yes with your mouth full.



Peter Krumbach’s Comments

“Nostalgia” originally appeared in Willow Springs. I read somewhere that it was only in the 19th century that doctors finally abandoned using leeches to try and suck nostalgia out of people.

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Frigg: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 60 | Fall/Winter 2022