The Nighttime Alive
by Rachel Hoffman
Subtle, those sounds,
Of the nighttime alive.
Curtain flutters window shutters wind
slinks through a wire screen and the
street lights twinkle, bright.
They smile. Slender fingers wound
tightly around his arm,
sweatered and buttoned and scarred.
They count their steps.
Tip-toeing through tense
tree root-ravaged cement
in slowed time
to the warped rhythm of the nighttime alive.
And each leaf sways to that
penetrating hum. Windy thumbs
bend branches, tango
with twig and vein.
tangling her silken strands,
strangling her heart-
as his blood sings the song
of the nighttime alive.
by Felicia Spahr
Rose, your life is but a simple one
You basking in the sun
Glorious rays shine down on you
What could you be unhappy about?
Ah, you dread the day that your well will dry out
You will no longer be desired and lusted after
Your allure is gone
Your life is a short one
And all you did with your time was stand still
Waiting for the day your petals would shrivel
Were you happy, Rose?