Six Poems

by Rebecca Ferlotti

Off Balance

The curtain-shadows mock me—

find faults in folds, hatch

lite-brite printer bands

across vision: TV static

standoff, headthumping,

alone. I shuffle away

in oversized slipper-

haze,

and fade

into maw

of sun-block

blankets,

of medusa-ed

top sheet

and supernova

pillows.

Renewal

Labyrinthine weeds

asphyxiate       (would-be) field——

once emerald               now desaturated

as Chaplin.

Plant carcasses weep

                                    p

                                      h

                                        y

                                          t

                                            i

                                              c

                                                     acid——

fungal              unkempt.

But rats whisk

Daedalean wastelands——

scurryfodder——

setting seed traps         and evergreen shoots

split  dirt  pores           again.

Glass Delusion

—After Princess Alexandra of Bavaria

Your body, enforced

by iron-rod lungs, bears

a glass square grand

—petite enough to escape

corsetry—a second heart

(unsinkable      supernatant)

—notes stridden         sound-locked.

(The pearly bell-pop

stands at attention.)

Keys and dress achromatic,

you worry smoky tones

will cut

through,

splinter                        needle

as if organs

will sew shut—stop

before life

completes.

The rain waits

for me to finish eating at the park,

for the glove

to tumbleweed under car,

The rain waits for the woman, unable to start

her lawn mower,

to huff back home.

Then                the rain waits

for jellycube hail.

The rain waits             for mauled dandelions,

waits                as birds trill a final time.

The rain waits until ice           rubberbands

off windows,               lands in heaps.

The rain waits out the freeze

and returns

to flood.

solo

skymall went bankrupt

(a wistful seatback pocket)

so i scrutinize pen graffiti

& barf bag instructions

a cart appears

against my elbows:

mouthwash cup sodas

mini pretzels

& cocktail napkins

the plane jolts as it runways

and i jostle

my single-serving friend

she places a soft hand on my shoulder

the pilot was just making sure

you were awake

sidewalk chalk

dandelions like blue cheese

veins in valleys—

synchronized sneezes—

no rain to wash away pollen,

no need to take allergy medicine.

we ignore it.

the picnic blanket ground-cozy,

we laugh at neighbors’ golden retrievers

licking cherry garcia

off patchwork grass.

we don’t cross summer

off the calendar, we keep it

pinned on may—clouds

as timepieces.

instead, we look

for the next fence to jump

or rocks to skip

across silver creek

or chalk to trace our hands

and turn them into turkeys.

BIO: Rebecca Ferlotti (she/her) is a writer, poetry instructor, and editor based in Ohio. Her poems have been published or are forthcoming in The Journal, Poetry South, The Bayou Review, and other magazines. Rebecca’s work also has been supported by the Kenyon Review Writers Workshop. You can find her online at rebeccaferlotti.com.