leisha nicole Stanek

4:26 AM

the big dipper decrescendos
into the oncoming horizon
after marathon stargazing.
dark morning desert chill prompts
multiple layers, single lap blanket
and just one more beer.
asking if it’s okay only after
wrapping your arm around me.
welcomed the shared heat of our bodies
and gestural permission of proximity.
this is the best theatre;
collecting satellites and shooting stars
in the periphery while the earth spins
away the milky way.
onslaught of yawns prompts disconnect
after neverending exchange of life experiences,
flesh caresses and sweet hungry kisses -
and how we fell into this now.
because our first hello was said yesterday
just thirteen hours before -
and we almost share the exact same birthday.

Kitchen Sink

I wish I didn’t need.
that contentment stayed
long enough to extend to death.
does a topical cream exist?
I’d slather before night -
suppressing wayward dreams
that when viewed in multiplicity,
impose a creeping longing
for life beyond the kitchen sink.

Polar Vortex

the polar vortex has lifted and slush season has begun
under the rays of the Groundhog Day sun that
convinces peeling of layers, bare knees and strollers
spreading out, lollygagging and top of lung yelling
seemingly earned ruckus and fever
now that it's not fifty below Fahrenheit, but above.
rainsuit and golashes are in order
as the eaves weep and downspouts gurgle
here in the concrete jungle we sling gravely muck
on the glittery folds of her viginal gown spun two days prior
watching with uncontained eagerness as the salt eats the lace edge
tiptoeing through inconvenient puddles in the cobble streets
after trading snow boots for sneakers and heels.