MONA LISA ON MY MIND
Love is like art.
Has stickability.
Under eyelids.
Gives hint of perpetuity.
While portraits turn to dust,
awe waits inside us.
I close my eyes—
darkness.
But, on further review,
there she still sits,
so lovely in front of me.
I offer her my heart
and she seems impressed.
Might take a very long time
to explain the rest.
Suffice to say
it involves games of Scrabble,
talk of dignity,
linguini,
and
how to properly feed a dove.
Such is love.
LINGUINE
That’s how you go and spell it?
And with such cockiness,
your e stamping upon this tabletop
with clap of plastic pride
as if tabletop hockey,
which this ain’t.
You’re so smug at Scrabble.
Just like you were yesserday
spelling spagetti
with an h shoved in between.
That’s right, you’re smugh.
Smugh, smugh.
Does that feel right?
Well, for me, it’s linguiny,
and y?
Because that feels right.
But
I can tell by your smugh eyes
your lifted dictionary is ready
to prove otherwise.
You’ve named it. I know.
There’s always tomorrow.
Joe Bisicchia writes of our shared dynamic. An Honorable Mention recipient for the Fernando Rielo XXXII World Prize for Mystical Poetry, he has written four published collections of poetry. He also has composed three hundred individual works that have been published in over one hundred publications such as California Quarterly, pacificReview, The Concrete Desert Review, Balloons Literary Journal, Triggerfish Critical Review, Sheepshead Review, Gone Lawn, The Tiger Moth Review, Agape Review, and more. The former broadcaster is director of public affairs for a health system in New Jersey and is a Practicing Excellence certified clinician coach. He earned his BA at La Salle University and is currently on the MFA track at Lindenwood University. To see more of his work, visit JoeBisicchia.com.
OVUNQUE SIAMO 