Say to me just once: Tonight will be like other ones hanging off sweaters, rose flicker of the first person pronoun. The sequence of wet beads, fall of the misty interval and the cell phone rang inward. It was April, like most films when the rain carries a suffix and I can never put myself on pause; what failing twilight of the ampersand so give me your hand and don't let go.
Feliz Lucia Molina recently earned an MFA in Poetry from Brown University. Her poems have appeared and are forthcoming in Shampoo #39, Titular Journal, Dark Sky Magazine, Corrugated Press, and Ubu Web's Publishing the Unpublishable.
She lives and teaches in Buffalo, NY.