Dance Craze
He worries constantly that I'll forget
which side of the bed I'm buttered on,
tripping over accidental accessories,
stumbling through claustral halls.
Even our best friends consider us
mismatched, one brown, serviceable
shoe, one sassy, strappy number,
cut out for dazzle and fancy footwork.
There's always something one can say
to gloss over missteps, deflect
attention from clumsy feet — like
"arresting" or "All swell that ends swell."
It works every time. Then, everyone
can just kick back and wait to see
what the next dance craze will be.
Sky Cover
I remember now, how a hand can open,
palm to sky, as if checking for rain
or asking for an answer. It's the hand
I recall when you talk of change, beg one
more favor. A hand with nothing to give.
A woman learns early to read the weather,
knows what's coming after hard kisses
and swift release — even if, under the certainty
of gathered clouds, she lets you believe
for the moment that it's clearing in the east.
Antonia Clark works for a medical software company in Burlington, Vermont, and is co-administrator of the online poetry workshop The Waters. Recent poems have appeared in The Chimaera, The Innisfree Poetry Journal, The Pedestal Magazine, Stirring, and elsewhere. contact
Copyright 2River. Please do not use or reproduce without permission.