pale silver of dusk
I wanted to rent out my room
and move faraway to the beach
to bartend and wear only
a little clothing
an old boyfriend told me
on a walk through the woods
that his wife would never have to work
what if she wants to? I asked
shivering in the winter wind
he never did have an answer for that
a collage of old photos danced
drunk and stumbling
in culturally inappropriate attire
something pink and beaded
a homemade tow-headed halo
shedding plastic feathers
crushed by stumbling feet
I smiled belligerently so much then
I am no angel
have no right
to moonlight in their glow
true, there is a certain risk
that belongs to being a woman
[who wants]
in dating several men at once
and wanting
[none of them]
in a house full of strangers I pretended
to puzzle together one thousand broken pieces
in too dim a light my eyes strained
in that relentless
mess of thousandths
I stepped out into a twilight
no shades of champagne or juniper blue
a grey transition towards the neighbour
flatfoot and faceless
because even angels get lonely
the streetlight shone into a garage party
a meek wave on the brink of too small
[too desperate]
he offered only a patronising half-smile
the kind that makes a woman shiver, cold
in the pale silver of dusk
Misha Lazzara is an MFA candidate at North Carolina State University. Her work has appeared on poets.org, in Entropy and frak/ture journal and is forthcoming in more. She was the winner of the Academy of American Poets University Prize 2020 at NCSU. You can find more of her writing here: mishalazzara.com