Statue of Limitations, I

The statue of limitations on how long

she can love him

has run out,

she thinks. She thinks? She thinks:

Beware those who provoke you to write poetry.


She wrote «statue» meant «statute», statue’s better

anyway, more honest to the reality of how limited it is,

this container we live in, slowly dying.


Was there ever a poem that wasn’t about death?

Go away.

Her Italian friend would say,

Past is past, okay? 

Kathleen Heil is a writer and translator. Her poetry, prose, and essays have been published in English and Spanish in Pear Noir!, Hermano Cerdo, The Rumpus, PANK, and The Barcelona Review, among others. Born and raised in New Orleans, Kathleen has a Master’s degree in Creación Literaria from the Escuela Contemporánea de Humanidades in Madrid, and currently resides in the U.S., where she is a candidate for the Master of Fine Arts in Translation at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville. Her website is