By Sarah Felder
Eyes back, lean back, I haven’t felt
The bare boned winter yet,
Your face in circles trailing skin-like
Apparitions, parenthetical laugh lines,
Twined lips, puckered and alive with
The Italian leather of your BMW sticks
To my thighs, I dream of her there,
The yellowing walls of the Ramada,
Where we smoked cigarettes all night
Between scratchy throws and music
Humming against the floors.
Back on the Island I remember you more:
The broken stairs to Mconoky beach,
Lambert’s cove road winds to me, extends
It’s tar limbs to visit for a day, and since leaving
That whistle of a place I no longer
Feel the salt under my fingernails.
We take tattoo guns and permanently mark this on ourselves:
This feeling of springtime at eighteen years old,
Slap youth on the back because you were
Just a reflection of the person that
Would take off to East Hollywood
And fall asleep with the other junkies and drag queens.
About the Author
My name is Sarah Felder; I am from Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts. I am finishing up my degree here at APU this spring. I am inspired by nature, nostalgia, and the passing of time. I love contemporary poetry, but read all genres from all times and places. Some of my favorite poets include, Elizabeth Bishop, Ezra Pound, Stephen Dobyns, and Sharon Olds.