Lois Roma-Deeley




She was
the applause of a hard rain
falling into the street, and soon after,
the slap of new shoes on wet concrete;
She was
the shimmer or the shine
of a dozen sequined mouths
stitched onto the back of a leather jacket;
the slice of orange and the leaves of mint
swirling around the edges of a water glass;
the flick of a cat’s tongue, pink and pointed.
She was
the welcoming flash of blinking neon signs;
the longboat leaving the harbor
sailing past the horizon line
of a man’s body;
She wanted the hunger
inside the bird’s belly;
the pause before evening prayers;
the ground of no sorrow
reeling under a ribbon sky.