Mathew Weitman
Winter 2026 | Poetry
Narrative Poem
That
I
should
vanish
from
my
self
&
forget
you
’re
dead
&
so
we
wander
around
the
train
station
for
hours
to
kill
time
until
the
party
where
I
’m
going
to
finally
meet
your
mother
(
whom
you
’ve
always
hated
)
after
all
these
years
.
But
when
we
get
there
you
disappear
for
hours
&
so
I
’m
left
to
make
small
talk
with
her
until
you
’re
back
:
“
You
forgot
your
phone
”
I
say
“
I
tried
to
call
you
you
look
so
tired
do
you
need
a
glass
of
water
or
—
”
“
Shut
up
”
you
say
“
just
leave
me
alone
&
let
me
be
dead
for
once
wake
up
&
write
a
poem
go
be
Cædmon
&
get
out
of
bed
—
drag
out
this
bit
of
nothing
in
your
note
book
instead
of
here
.
”
“
I
will
but
let
me
stay
with
you
a
little
longer
first
I
know
I
’ll
remember
enough
of
this
when
I
wake
up
to
write
a
poem
.
”
“
No
you
won’t
”
you
say
“
you
will
forget
like
always
—
Mathew
look
at
what
you
’re
writing
:
Vashuxjwah
is
not
a
word
you
’re
still
asleep
you
’re
writing
in
a
dream
—
how
will
you
remember
this
if
you
can’t
even
remember
I
’m
dead
?
I
’m
giving
you
a
poem
what
else
do
you
want
from
me
—
my
mother
?
(
Whom
you
’ve
met
before
in
real
life
—
she
was
at
my
funeral
you
wept
in
front
of
her
you
held
her
coat
.
)
Quit
bringing
me
back
&
let
me
be
dead
for
once
—
please
just
let
me
be
dead
.
”
Mathew Weitman’s debut poetry collection, The Campus Novel: Poems, is forthcoming with Tupelo Press. His work can be found in Copper Nickel, The Georgia Review, Virginia Quarterly Review, and elsewhere. He is the winner of the Loraine Williams Poetry Prize, the AWP Kurt Brown Award, the Inprint Verlaine Prize in Poetry, and has received residencies and fellowships from MacDowell, UCROSS, and Millay Arts. With July Westhale and Felipe Acevedo Riquelme, he is co-editor and co-translator of Rolando Cárdenas: On the Life and Work of a Chilean Master (Pleiades Press, 2026).