Joanna Collins
Two Poems
June
We held the ice between our teeth
Hoping it would melt
As the acid rain blew by
I longed to drag my knuckles across your laugh lines
No air between us and the photo of us
Happy and joking in 2019
But all we had now was a sketch of our hands
Clasped together in prayer
Holding on for dear life
We hid our vision boards behind paintings of the Great War
Crammed velvet gloves into vacuum sealed bags under our beds
Pausing our dreams for a softer time
We held the ice between our teeth
With clenched jaws and pursed lips
Saving all the best lines for June
Dancing on the Head of a Pin
In the time of the plague
We kissed with our words
Sanitizing our lips with poems about youth
We let every pen run out of ink
Scratching at the page
Declarations we could finally say
At the end of the world
As the virus spread, we learned the art of the tease
Tips of gloved fingers
Showing the eyes where to look
Tracing what could be
Our forgotten fantasies, pressed against the glass
When the globe began to sweat
We danced on her edge like she’s flat after all
Our fear of dying
A broken strand of pearls, slipping off the side
I woke up to find
You’d planted flowers on my sill
Like you’re certain of tomorrow
I wonder why
Why
Why bother when they might not last through the spring
For love, you say
Even if we have just one moment more
Joanna Collins holds a JD from Vanderbilt University Law School, and a BA in psychology and American studies from the University of Notre Dame. She is an attorney at the Tennessee Department of Education and a frequent denizen of Poetry in the Brew (at Portland Brew East) and other Nashville open mics.
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