Poetry #4

Grand Place, Nice LightsBy Julie LandersStories of a bunkerIn a Ukranian city you cannot rememberTurned into an underground bar.If you know the passwordDoors are opened to you, song in a language youDon’t understand.I lean towards what lies above ground,Sing the songs I know ICannot get wrong.For both of us this is a new cityWith new myths.We walk through La Grand Place where small talk crumbles away, reveals soul.The thrills you seekOn these cobbled streetsWhich give way to nightclub dance-floors where we smoke and sway.Under these red lights there is only you,My confidante, my healer.You smile like you carry plumes of smoke behind your teeth.This moment of night terrors in new tongues.I inhale my new home.I look to you and deduce how light my lungs could feel.Take solace in the secrets that we keepIn incompatible dialects,Under streetlights veiled in early autumn’s mist.IBy Claire Ahernelittle mountain, bigsheep, eating shepherd alive,each possessive limblittle chest, big heartattack, weeping or dying,can’t tell them apartlittle sea, big fishhunger in a stomach-fullof microplasticlittle man, big blackshadow, though when i try totouch, he is nowhereIIBy Claire Ahernekissing pretty girltasting her back and forwardsyear of many masksthere is no remorseand he would do it againif boredom arosewhat is appetitehow come you smell like flowersi’m dripfed my pride