DANCE OF THE NYMPHS
Everyone in this room has botox, especially me. Spring is here and we’re frozen like tiny celestial flakes. Like a skipped heartbeat, I want this moment to last forever. Blossoms, dancing feet, we’re turning, and we’re waiting in beauty. In all of my gray flowers, there is a portrait of my face turning into mist. Let me be seen like I see you; not in gray, but in green and gold. Because these moments are fleeting, dear, my sweet one. Let’s hold fast, among the lilacs and lilies, take me to an altar with these petals and find the inside of my thighs. Between you and me, this could be a sacred offering. Keep me, keep us both here plastered together. You’re a drop in the bucket of this short life; a gem to polish, or wrap in velvet. Let me put my face in the crook of your arm, call me a pet name, let spring come before the world is aflame. I love you. I swear, this mortal coil will be worth it.03
Stephanie Valente is a poet, copywriter, and the author of the collection Internet Girlfriend, published by Clash Books. She is at work on a novel. She lives in Brooklyn, New York.
OVUNQUE SIAMO 