The Eyes That Consumed Me
were eating someone else.
I was collateral damage to her
tragedy. His mouth spoke
words that buried me in ash,
burned me in place, still life,
photo-imperfect and forever
Getting What I Deserve
You were a smokeless structure
fire that I should have extinguished
before the heat scarred me. Forgetting
would be a blessing, a welcome breath
of amnesia where I suffocate on memory,
held down by regret. Your body was
a false idol I worshipped blindly
at the temple of adulterers. If mistakes
are letters, sew one to my chest.
Thread needle through skin to punish me
for what I did not do when I was forever
altered by your touch -- because I let it
remind me momentarily of someone else.
Pinned in the Past
I am held hostage
by curse with no antidote.
I do not want to remember
loving you. I am pulling
arms out of faded blue
flannel shirt you never buttoned.
I've got one leg stuck
in the 90's, all grunge-love,
lost in feigned apathy and suicide
music. Something's in the way
of happiness, then as much as now.
April Salzano teaches college writing in Pennsylvania where she lives with her husband and two sons. Most recently, she was nominated for two Pushcart prizes and finished her first collection of poetry. She is working on a memoir on raising a child with autism. Her work has appeared in journals such as Convergence, Ascent Aspirations, The Camel Saloon, Centrifugal Eye, Deadsnakes, Visceral Uterus, Salome, Poetry Quarterly, Writing Tomorrow and Rattle. The author also serves as co-editor at Kind of a Hurricane Press.