This poem was nominated for The Best of the Net.
It was done in an hour, and
the aftermath was a red light sinking
behind a line of bodies, nothing like
a bread line or staying up all night
to get the best seats. My cut was
waiting in a box by the door while a man stood
outside my window looking at the house
next door. The world was efficient
just as it always had been: I was meant to be
alone. All of the trees knelt down
and untied the vines. Some things only taste good
when they’re stolen. I will always give up
the codes and locations, memories
and fog hidden buildings: they’re all wound up
like my mood – no one will sleep
tonight. It’s one more instance of waiting
to be taken, waiting for the crime,
a marble bird on the tabletop,
a gun safe, a merry-go-round, antique radio.
I listen to the same song but never
really understand. I wore
a necklace of onyx beads and when
the sun came up, I left
the day in a jar.
DANA CURTIS’ third full-length collection of poetry, Wave Particle Duality, was recently published by blazeVOX Books. Her second collection, i, was published by CW Books, and her first book, The Body’s Response to Famine, won the Pavement Saw Press Transcontinental Poetry Prize. Her work has appeared in such publications as Hotel Amerika, Indiana Review, Colorado Review, and Prairie Schooner. She has received grants from the Minnesota State Arts Board and the McKnight Foundation. She is the Editor-in-Chief of Elixir Press and lives in Denver Colorado.
