Elizabeth Switaj

 

Spring Departures

You ask me how I leave
red & yellow tulips
                             and take to stone stairs
                            for at least twelve hours

            again & again
 How can you watch
                             petals turn out & dry
                                  & die  Do you wait
                             for them to fall
                                             and go home
     instead of marching hours

Cafeteria Counter

I dump vegan chili in yellow paper cup
                             done in ten to thirty
                          seconds   Man
  beside me stirs slowly scoops
    chicken noodle soup— no mess, no drips

I linger hold lid
for you to step between
  for vegetable soup

You don’t
               of course    he’s searching
           for napkins & adjusting
                                              his suit


Covered Eating Walkway

Just me & the smokers again
       metal chairs & rain   Why
    am I the only one   sitting
Why are my hands knobbed & red
                                              on subway
now relaxing into pale things
you held   You see

We are the same
You with the Virgin   I
breathe secondhand clouds & praise
   the sky

Ghost on Cloud Takers Route

       He didn’t have to catch me
but I had asked him in
                              and we were going out
He bent down & kissed my foot
I pulled on my sock

                                I tied my boots too tight
                                     and when I took them off
     to set up camp
                                          he was gone

 

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