by Victoria Iacchetta
ten steps ahead, feet glow in
the sunlight of tomorrow
but a mind held in place begin sto
enter a resting state chained to necks
that’ve spent decades looking back
as the late spring winds tunnel
purposefully through weak forests
leaves fall and —
if I close my eyes in time I’m
outside of Essex Pub feeling
your lips for the first time
have you noticed naked awareness
hiding in that graceless place, you know
the one? it’s over by the reservoir
I see our retrospection hanging over the
rusted perimeter fence everyday, the remains
of our non-selves overgrown and tidy-less
nowadays I sit idly in 3pm beams of sun
considering what presence might feel like
for the girl in the photographs
the girl with brown eyes that they say are mine /
brown eyes that I can’t seem to recognize
Victoria, of Spencerport, New York, is currently working towards a Master’s degree in London, England. Her first chapbook, “The Cubicle” was published with Gap Riot Press in November of 2019. Recent poetry and artwork have appeared in Crêpe & Penn and Ang(st) Zine. Other poems or artwork have appeared in: The Honey Mag, The Gravity of the Thing, Ghost City Press, The Sunlight Press, Vamp Cat Magazine, Bottlecap Press, and Peach Mag.
