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 Hiccupped laughing; 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…