Poetry By Janette Schafer
By Janette Schafer
Dialogue between lovers
Where is this going?
Just ride it—
Regrets become weapon—
until the wheels fall off, baby.
in our storehouse of flaws. (Awkward silence.)
Don’t think. Don’t dig. Just feel.
I need to walk away from this.
Leave nothing behind—
This is too thin. This is chipped eggshells.
but your claw marks.
Frame by frame
Binge-watching my lover—
fuzzy soft pot-belly like a goose feather pillow.
Spin out and in from his eyes like a Hitchcock camera shot,
beautiful cinematic classic approached from every angle.
There’s not a frame of him I do not know,
never a minute wasted because there’s never enough time.
And this is what I want.
But this is what I wanted.
(This is what you want, yes?)
A foundation crumbles
decays from above and below
earth crumbles, tunnels mined
thick bedrock of disbelief
and throats politely cleared.
A barometer mounted on a moldy porch
has ceased working. Waters of three rivers
cup windowpanes, lap with waves
of iodized blood. Here there is no ark,
no march of two-by-two.
Janette Schafer is a freelance writer, nature photographer, rock n roll singer, and full-time banker living in Pittsburgh, PA. She is a 2017 awardee of the Maenad Fellowship through Chatham University. Her writing and photographs have recently appeared in: New Ink; Unlikely Stories V; Nasty Women & Bad Hombres Anthology; Dear America, Reflections on Race; PublicSource.