Title Unknown, Bethanny Spielman

Woman in Blue

She looks at me with her nearly closed

right eye, her left eye nothing but a gray

flap.  She tries to speak but hasn’t enough

of a mouth.  Who are the man and woman

behind her?  Pale faces, bodies melting,

the woman bubbling like champagne.

Clouds of smoke hover.  Are we allowed

to smoke?  I wouldn’t mind a cigarette

right now.  A vodka martini wouldn’t be

bad either.  These free-floating colors

don’t make sense.  Some bear resemblance

to human bodies but as hard as I try,

I can’t hold them together.  A cat white

as ermine stretches atop something blue. 

I hate cats.  At least this one isn’t black. 

A star once lived in the center of my mind. 

I didn’t see the supernova, but I know

there’s a black hole in my brain sucking out

memories.  I feel the hollow each one

leaves behind.  If I could, I’d leave,

but where would I go?  I can’t run. 

My legs and feet are rubbish.  I thought

this was a party.  The only treats I see are

those things in front of the woman in blue.

They look like cupcakes, devil’s food on

the bottom and a slathering of blue on top.

I’m not going to eat one of those lopsided

things.  They shouldn’t be there anyway.

That’s an ironing board, for God’s sake!

Pat Martin