By Georgia M. Brodsky

taught me what longing is

but also how to fall in love
and keep falling

even when it’s just me
(especially then)

sitting in the dark
before the story begins

willing the sound
the light to find me

By Kenneth Pobo

Just once I’d like to wear
a gold anklet
when a salesman sees me
and is immediately turned on.
Usually I’m in sweatpants,
no one at the door except maybe
a squirrel. It worked
for Stanwyck and MacMurray.
One minute you’re in a living room
talking and the next you’re
murdering her hubby. Plans
are cigarettes that briefly
burn bright. Robinson caught on
and evil turned to ash. Outside

of the dark theater, I don’t hope
that a Robinson will appear. Evil
will burn itself out
though it may take years.
I wonder about

that anklet. When Barbara
went to jail, who got it ?
A resale shop? Maybe
it ended up in the trash,
shining by chicken wings
and a Dixie cup.

By Kenneth Pobo

I get woozy on a staircase,
almost passed out
walking up a New Jersey lighthouse.
I’ve committed many deceptions —
some bring relief
like when this man who said
he loved me got in his car
and drove off while I took a shower.
It’s easy to deceive
with I love you.

You might hear someone say it
on a staircase. You might
say it there too.
Three words hanging
between truth and lie,
flickering Christmas tree lights.

By Jennifer LeBlanc

Never Look Away
After the film from 2018

A single
purple blossom
placed with such
hope
in
the vase.

Morning work begins
for the East German

artist. He needs an idea.
What is it to paint

with memory and with
demons, shutters closing

on lives ended within
the family ? What is it

to walk away at the end
of the day, the canvas

still empty ? But smudge
the portrait here, an eye

blinks, a finger points,
indicts the man posed

in the passport photo,
propped up like an ominous

god observing the studio.
Shutters open, hinges swing.