Ode to Good-Bye
The moon was whole
but thought itself
sculpted.
I knew,
from the first time,
your tender, stupid
weakness, yet I stayed
hung up, as if I were
a corded lantern,
until there was
no light.
Rejection,
sweet,
shitty
avalanche,
I can feel you
coming. For years,
you, as if my body
were lost string,
traveling nothing,
expectant of no one,
freed: the upside of endings.
Barcelona
I have been
left open, alone.
I think of Sagrada Familia,
of bleeding, of light that starts
red, ends pink, of white angles,
windows the shape of stars and
a child’s drawing of eyes, of when
we used to kiss, slick between
the thighs, like puddles. In some
folded corner of this place, not god
but me, me telling you, me saying,
honest. I tried.
Katy Scarlett is an educator, essayist, and poet from New Jersey. She earned an MFA in Creative Writing from Virginia Commonwealth University and an MA in Art History from Hunter College, CUNY. Katy’s writing is published or forthcoming in Michigan Quarterly Review Online, Hunger Mountain, CRAFT, Cimarron Review, and elsewhere. Read more of her work at www.katy-scarlett.com.