Christina Strigas

I notice your disappearance

more than your appearance. I heard

the silence, it makes these ticking sounds

in my ear. Loud. Intrusive.

Silence can bleed too. I see it with

my third eye, it hurts to feel

everyone’s pain when I walk

into a party with my high heels

on and my studded pants. They

want to understand the poet

and why she is smiling. They want

to read between the drinks,

but they missed the hors d’oeuvres

busy predicting if it’s roast beef

or veal. Cranberry and vodka please.

Make it a double.

Hey, aren’t you so and so

I nod at eyes that stare.

I do not mind being alone,

actually who needs a man

at a time like this?

Who needs to check if he is

looking at everyone else

except you? Who needs a man

to walk into a room full of

strangers turned friends? I…

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