February 8th
by Ann Pedone
Or: what makes the body cum? What makes us fall in love? Brass door pulls, medieval city walls, small silver pitchers of cream, a tall, lean man exposing himself in front of a fountain. Or: what do we fear? Not having something to hold onto at dusk? The return of a long- lost father? Last night I woke up in the hotel basement Crawfish scuttled across my chest My hands purple with dream We dared each other to see who would push off the pier first Once my husband told me that he loved me because he was good at it There are two kinds of people in this world. Those who eat salt. And those who wait for a perfect ending.
About the Author
Ann is the author of The Medea Notebooks (spring, 2023 Etruscan Press), and The Italian Professor鈥檚 Wife (spring, 2022 Press 53), as well as the chapbooks The Bird Happened, perhaps there is a sky we don鈥檛 know: a re-imagining of sappho, Everywhere You Put Your Mouth, and DREAM/WORK. Her work has recently appeared in The American Journal of Poetry, Narrative, Chicago Quarterly Review, Carve Magazine, and Juked. Ann has a degree in English from Bard College and an MA in Chinese Language and Literature from UC Berkeley.