07/27/2011

the nightgowns came
blocked with dust,
dance of the past

and it was beautiful:
the idea of holding
the tickets soon arriving.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This is a slimmed-down version of a collage poem, which I wrote by cutting out words and phrases from magazines and gluing them together on a paint chip. It was influenced by a recent dream I’d had in which my grandmother (who doesn’t walk around much anymore, always wears a nightgown, and met my grandfather in a Polish dance hall) and I were dancing a waltz around her small New York City apartment.

BIO:

Christine Poreba’s poems have recently appeared in The Southern Review, Alimentum and The Sun. She currently teaches English as a Second Language to adults in Tallahassee, Florida, where she lives with her husband and their furry red dog.
MORE POEMS:

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'Artichoke', Rosanna Oh


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