Monday, July 16, 2012

Luminescence by Alexandra Smyth


At night when I can’t sleep sometimes I find myself
saying a small prayer for you. I think about the things
I am forgetting: the exact olive of your skin, the way
you say hello when you answer the telephone, the scent
of the back of your neck after a shower. This is welcome
dementia, a fresh coat of white paint. My thoughts roll over
and turn toward our bodies emitting a faint luminescence
in the dark. A car alarm slices the night in the register of
your voice. I tongue this emptiness, like a child after losing
a tooth. All I wanted was to find the place you needed to be loved.

Alexandra Smyth lives in Brooklyn, NY. She is a receptionist by day, MFA in Creative Writing candidate at the City College of New York by night. When she's not playing phone jockey or writing poems, Alexandra can be found combing the beaches of Rockaway, Queens for seashells, riding her bike, or starting craft projects she rarely finishes. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Alarmist,  Neon Literary Magazine, Rufous City Review, and Specter Magazine. 

Street art by Ms. Used.
Photo by Adam Lawrence.

How To Dress Well is a Chicago-based musician and producer creating heartfelt post-dubstep pop.  

1 comment:

  1. A lovely understated prose poem that lingers and packs a punch at the end.