Susan Louise Sgroi
3 Days Evaporating
Infectious smile
the exposed scent of soap
and uncertainty.
Naivety of experience,
I spent the better part of an
hour
in a bovarysme,
starring you.
Eyes closed, looking away
inside.
Vodka tonic and your disappearance into a
song
Monday
-
Absence of scent, distance
silence, desire slides to the
floor.
My observations will stay
intact,
an utterance can no-longer be
owned.
An impression of an instance is
ones
Own.
I now own that image and it is (power, dominion,
authority)
separate
from you
Wednesday
-
Nearly free of
your enervated image
and escaping my mind,
my chest,
the owned image slowly cleft,
looks around
and fades
Thursday.
Going Missing
Counting how many times
I go missing in a day,
early sun filters through
brown shades, brown
from summer cooked dust
and the last poem I read.
Cats eyes green squinting
laying liquid,
stretching out long
and lean,
daydream.
Paris in a
fingertip
is a friend who heals
with bright red hair and
a bold laugh.
Centering the chaos,
I grasp at the invisible
spools
of energy collecting
at my feet. Holding them up
for closer inspection.
Chimera
Feng Zhengjie
falling snow as silent
as sfumato dust
on your gentle hand.
a strawberry kiss.
“I’d like to stay here
forever”
Only touch that pink feather
pile of speak.
shadow of your impossible
brush against my shoulder.
“one day we will have to”
But never will.
come back in an hour.
Never.
Just relax and lay back
into that soft curving snow
of chimera kiss,
invented.
Susan Louise Sgroi
earned her MA in 20th Century American Literature
at a California State University
, and is currently a Professor of
Humanities and Composition in
Baltimore
,
Maryland
.
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