Andrea Henchey (poetry)
The idea that no one is afraid of flying, only
crashing, is the bulb above your head again
and again. Soon, the daffodils will be up.
On night runs under street lights, shadows
grow then meet then shrink then stop
then grow then meet then shrink then stop.
Now is the time to think about moonlit skinny
dipping, drunk, last summer and the summer to come.
There’s still a bright white line cut into your thigh
from the chain link fence you couldn’t quite clear.
Fear disappears with enough beer. The fence was to keep
us away from the beach but the fence failed.
We watched phosphorescence spark and swirl
like stars being born as I peed into the dark Atlantic.
Are they, like, alive? I asked but you were
already back on the beach looking for your lost earrings
by cell phone glow with that married guy who hated
his wife and kissed you, so I braided my wet hair
and searched for my underwear.
We woke in a strange hotel; dawn busting in.
Little Poem Swallowing Its Tail
What a fool you are what I want and
who I want is you are the fool who
fell so I fell too much in love with you.
Reckless is what this is a mistake, perhaps,
dangerous is what this is beautiful, perfect.
Do you wonder how I feel
like an eel: electric and slippery.
by Andrea Henchey