New Year's Eve

Face to window

back to the darkened room

he holds a cigarette between 

two fingers

sits a stemless wine glass on the sill.

He inhales nicotine

exhales the taste of me in a sour cloud 

of smoke.

Beside his foot, moonlight nudges 

the sequins on my dress and I can see 

his face, his mouth in a half smile.

From beneath the sheets

I watch his shoulders sway 

in the shadows

I bite my bottom lip to fight residual 

tremors.

I inhale his scent from the chilled

 pillowcase and hold my breath, 

keeping him inside. 

Fruit

You placed a penny in my palm

I tried to plant it in my chest

The fruit it bore

was sickly sweet

with thorns the size of cupids’ arrows

When I brought you

a basket full,

with my bloody finger tips,

nonsense words began

to fall from your lips.

My name came out in stutters

amidst some jokes about a green thumb,

a misplaced apology,

a smile reminiscent of the ones

you used to give me

(I picked that up and put it in my pocket),

an offering of flour

so I could bake a pie,

a cough,

a glance over my shoulder

a glance at your wrist where you’ve never worn a watch,

a less familiar smile I’ve only seen you give to strangers,

an unsolicited laugh,

some excuse about a work meeting,

a hug with too much space inside, a see-ya-soon you didn’t mean, a soon that never came, a soon that never came, a soon that never came a soon that never came a soon that never came a soon that never
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Playing with Giants

In his giant fingers, she was like a child playing helicopter. Between his pointer and thumb he spun her, a wilting magnolia flower plucked from its tree. Her petals reached out sideways grasping for something to grip onto - another body to help her balance, anything to keep her from being propelled into the air without destination for this giant was unpredictable. He would either crush her between his calloused finger pads or let her fall to the ground.