Writing in the dark

Christina Strigas

I write with my eyes closed

the light barely visible

dark shadows over the words

I cannot understand what the shape of my hand

is doing all over your toxic words and pages of angst

I search for the perfect adjective

but it never amounts to anything

grudgingly look the other way

avoid my gazes

and gawking eyes

crowds surround us in the streets of New York

but I only see your round eyes

that make me squirm

that tie me up in knots

those sky colored eyes that read my future

know my past

and want my present in the palm of his hand.

I toss my high heels for running shoes

and that’s when you notice the shape of my calves

in ponytails and sweats

you are a strange man.

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