FIREFLIES IN THE CHEAP SEATS
What is it about electricity? At the door,
a moth bangs himself senseless
to get at it. In bed, it’s the measure
of fate: low-watt, halogen,
fingers releasing the high beams.
If you’d asked, I’d have traced your skin
in neon, let its heat singe my signature.
And aren’t we all waiting for it—
an illumination anchored
to our bodies, weighing us down
even as we lift from the ground.
LANDSCAPE WITH AFTERNOON AND FLIGHT
There is a cup;
there is a woman holding the cup
and a bee swirling down its white walls
toward a slick of sugar and brown.
At the counter, there is commerce
and in the far back, a hand sunk
into dish soap and grease, cigarette ash
christening the suds. She only thinks
of the luck: Everything, there,
pooled, and it hovers, hesitates,
as if the bottom of the well
were not worth the sinking.
With a flick, she caps the cup
with saucer. Let it find itself
ankle deep now, she thinks,
looking for the first time
toward the street, the man passing,
a whole afternoon and she uncaps
the cup to find a drunk fly,
wing-heavy with sweetness,
whom she nudges to the side
and then drinks what is left and leaves.
Suzanne Parker is a winner of a Kinereth Gensler Book Award, and her collection of poetry, Viral, is forthcoming from Alice James Press in 2013. Her poetry has appeared in Barrow Street, Cimarron Review, Rattapallax, and numerous other journals, and she is a winner of the Alice M. Sellars Award from the Academy of American Poets and was a Poetry Fellow at the Prague Summer Seminars. Suzanne’s creative non-fiction is published in the travel anthology Something to Declare by the Univ. of Wisconsin Press. Suzanne directs the creative writing program at Brookdale Community College in NJ. She also helped found and teaches workshops with the Uptown Writers Group.