February 8th

by Ann Pedone

Or: what makes the body cum? 
What makes us fall in love? 
Brass door pulls, medieval
city walls, small silver
pitchers of cream,
a tall, lean man exposing himself
in front of a fountain. 

Or: what do we fear? 
Not having something to hold 
onto at dusk? 
The return of a long-
lost father?

Last night I woke up in the hotel basement
Crawfish scuttled across my chest
My hands purple with dream
We dared each other to see 
who would push off the pier first

Once my husband told me that 
he loved me because he was good at it

There are two kinds of people in this world. 
Those who eat salt. 
And those who wait for a perfect ending.

About the Author

Ann is the author of The Medea Notebooks (spring, 2023 Etruscan Press), and The Italian Professor’s Wife (spring, 2022 Press 53), as well as the chapbooks The Bird Happenedperhaps there is a sky we don’t know: a re-imagining of sapphoEverywhere You Put Your Mouth, and DREAM/WORK. Her work has recently appeared in The American Journal of Poetry, Narrative, Chicago Quarterly Review, Carve Magazine, and Juked. Ann has a degree in English from Bard College and an MA in Chinese Language and Literature from UC Berkeley.