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Night, 4/8/12

You left your words back at the apartment,
He says.
I am still dazed
when I stumble out to his car,
my hand eager to find his
when he stops shifting gears.

Probably, I mumble.
Yes, he said,
All your fucks and ohs, your oh gods and yeses.
I giggle
And bring his hand to my lips.

I fancy them
strewn all over the place
amidst his stuff,

A scattered oath
Silenced by a sock,
A magazine covered by
A garbled utterance not quite thought through—
It was impossible to think it through,
That word.
So many things changed.
A game of rugby for words:
the turbulent fricative stopped short
by the plosive,
arresting my frenzied sounds,
hurling them over the edge of the bed.

I Saw it in Your Eyes

It’s 1:24 AM
And the diner we’re at is
stuffed with trendy young things
suffused with all the stink of youth and beauty.
I’m trying to figure out the tip so
We can go home
Go to bed

But I can’t do the math in my head
Because I cried the day they introduced fractions in second grade
So that should give you some idea
Of where my skills are

So I ask him,
The math teacher
Sitting across from me
Whose hands labor over plots and tangents and
Problems like me,
Whose lips whisper such things
In my ear, (answers)—

How much for a good tip?
Is this good?

I indicate the money in my hands.
Even though we’re lovers, I’m still afraid
of the teacher’s answer
But he says yes.

Is that rude?

We live together in the dark
when he pulls me close to say
That my breasts, they feel so good in his hands
His kisses and bites tumble across
my skin and
I remember

“It’s alright
I understood
I saw it in your eyes.”
Apprehension. Fear. Shame.

Isobel is an erstwhile student of Agnes Scott College, a native of Atlanta,
GA, a classically trained violist and vocalist, and a sufferer of dyscalculia.
As this is her first published submission ever, you can find her work in no
other publications. Yet.

Poems by Emma Forster.
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Night, 4/8/12
I Saw it in Your Eyes

Poems by Isobel Robinson-Ortiz
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Published July 22, 2015