Storm Caught
What my not turning away says.
You removing
your soaked shirt
in the doorway.
My being made
unprepared by curve
& dip. That a deluge
begins in sun.
That if rain triangulated
your stomach,
glazed your ilium, from where I
froze, I could not
attest Yes
or No. Understand
my staring as a puddle
engulfing a ship,
my silence the ghost-
ship of that ship,
its drowned quarry.
Drenched from chin to waist,
you wrung
your shirt
then elbowed back in,
almost-blue-
cotton, clinging
to your ribs.
Flower Conroy Punch Drunk Press’s third Featured Woman Poet this August! She is the author of the chapbooks Facts About Snakes & Hearts; The Awful Suicidal Swans; and Escape to Nowhere. Her poetry has appeared in American Literary Review, Prairie Schooner, Gargoyle and other journals. She is the current Poet Laureate of Key West.
Featured image by chuttersnap
