I PLAYED WITH MYSELF JUST TO EXCITE YOU/ Joanna Valente
It happens sometimes in the mornings or
at night after dinner. It is a pointless
gesture: nostrils of ashes, hived ears–
you have it all. I say your name just
to tempt you.
I have not gone yet, even though you’ve
missed all our appointments. Even the
ones where I spread someone else’s
legs and eat out their poetry. I have
stopped asking why
you never come. Out in the dark womb
of Philly, you look around for American
Buffalo, waiting for the gentleness of men
greased from the swamp. Nobody knows
where you’ve gone.
Joanna C. Valente was born and bred in New York, where she still currently resides. She is a writer and artist who has been featured in various publications, such as You Say. Say. (Uphook Press), The Westchester Review, The Houston Literary Review, Side B Magazine, among others. She is also the founder and editor of the online literary publication, Yes, Poetry. In the fall of 2011, she will begin attending Sarah Lawrence College as an MFA candidate in poetry. In the future, she would like to live by the ocean.