Two Prose Poems by Melissa Levine

Sidney

Whenever I fly I think of you, of being drunk and dirty, of the disappointment on my father’s face. I showed up full of dog hair and whiskey. We drove to a liquor store where a bottle broke the silence. What do you think of me? You never knew me at 21. I never asked enough; you never got to tell me. The rage and hollowness that stole years from me left my coffers reserved for grief empty and inadequate. You never knew I changed from a snot-nosed kid playing in the snow to a house of cards. One whiff of rye, cracked cheap pleather, and she returns—a broken young woman flying to your funeral.

2.png
Flying Woman © mythopoetica

 

Opportunity

I read that there had been a terrible car accident in Livingston Parish. I know a person there—so I thought, maybe. Maybe it was her. The article said something about an upset son. She has one of those. It really could be her. I had better check to make sure she’s alright. Thank God, she’s alive and well. Though, if it was her, I could be depressed for a while. Drunk, stoned, and justified. I would make sense to other people. Don’t pretend like it’s never crossed your mind.

 

 

 

 

Melissa Levine writes short fiction and poetry. Her short fiction piece ‘Mimosa’ was published in Typishly. Levine received her BA and MAT from Louisiana State University in English Literature and Secondary English Teaching, respectively. Her research focused on Trauma Theory in literature classrooms, and she currently teaches secondary English. Find her on Tumblr as levinewriteslit.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s