Three Poems By April Salzano

Three Poems 

By April Salzano 

 

From Fiction This Memory

I woke in your arms, perfect

morning to sleep late, the sun

slipping through the blinds, our 2.5

children still asleep, each tucked in a 4

poster bed, covered in a Pottery Barn quilt,

their Ikea bookshelves alpha by author,

their toys neatly placed in labeled baskets.

It must have been Saturday because

you were not at your office job, the one

with the 9-5 schedule and opportunity

for advancement. The maid had baked

cinnamon rolls from scratch.

 

I woke alone, flawed

day to sleep in because the sun

hadn’t shown in weeks, blinds closed

to preserve every fragment of heat salvageable.

Our 2 children had been awake for an hour

and had already destroyed their room, tore

all the books off the shelves. The toys never

had a place to begin with. You were not

at your job, office or otherwise, because

you didn’t have one, had been fired for stealing

pain medications from the patients. In fact,

you didn’t even live with us anymore. You had

an affair and I threw you out, gaining custody

of everything without even asking.

 

 

On the English Moor

In my front yard in Pennsylvania,

mist of fog does not hang, it lays,

not heavy as it appears, not thick,

but a thin whisper, hinting

at what hides behind lace curtain.

I could part it with my hands,

travel into the blue. Moon,

low, shines a halo around herself,

a spotlight that does not break

through layers of precipitous smoke,

a special effect of morning,

the coming of May.

 

 

The Road to Stoned Road

begins with a lottery,

a number drawn, short stick’s end

given like a public inheritance.

Strange-turn-of-events-crowd-pleaser.

Appetite for the bizarre assuaged.

Guilty dirt manicures the whitest nails.

Victim is sited in for the prize.

With slingshot precision, road ends

with a stone to the head.

 

Filed under: Prose/Poetry, Submissions

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