
Mosquitoes buzz near
sticky red strawberry hands—
swift sting of sweetness.
©Nancy Botta, 2019

Mosquitoes buzz near
sticky red strawberry hands—
swift sting of sweetness.
©Nancy Botta, 2019

Bulldozed skyscraper—
hard hats and fat grey pigeons
linger in the sun.
© Nancy Botta, 2019

I tried to say
important things
like ‘I love you’
and ‘I’m sorry’
but they came out
wet
crooked
aborted—
and I just let it happen,
let them splatter
like droplets,
like shattered teeth
spat in the sink.
© Nancy Botta, 2019

The mid century outdoor sconce
I helped your wife install last summer
illuminates;
your slightly receding hairline,
5 day old stubble,
sweat stains on a blouse,
the glint of a best friend
charm on my wrist—
your forehead slick with guilt
when my arms, encircling your neck,
remind you
that we never truly cared
about all the lines we’ve crossed.
© Nancy Botta, 2019