Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Forty
Spring 2016
i order jasmine tea & John orders chamomile
Elizabeth Forsythe

& he takes my hand with [his hand]             delicate on the tip of my tongue &
it tastes like the tiber
            [which] i walked next to at sundown
            [which] admittedly smelled awful
            i brushed it with my fingertips
            rocked a sinking boat             [a wooden skiff]
we could go sailing i say we could commandeer a boat
John says: [you are] a boat                [i ask him what he means]
he says: tell [me] in waves                              means: one lunar cycle
                                                                      means: string theory
                                                                      means: dowsing                   use a willow branch
the waitress brings the tea but forgets the mugs
we shotgun steam from each other’s lips
            can i tell you a secret can i whisper a stream of fog & John unfolds in my palm
my hand is [no more & no less] empty without [his hand]
i reach to tuck a curl behind his ear                    it feels like lightning
& John says: tell me [something]               how do you know
& like most things i don’t

About Elizabeth Forsythe

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