Two Poems by Jennifer Novotney

North of Oxford

After Dinner Nap
Her arm hangs over the bed lazily
like a flower in need of rain.
Sometimes I’d stop to watch her sleep
witness the rise and fall of her chest
like calm waves glittering under a summer moon.
The long lines of light ripple in the liquidity
reflecting sky, the darkness enveloping the clouds.
I’d often wish she’d sit with me under that full moon
low and bright in the expansive night
but she was usually too tired, too drunk to stay awake
as if the world was too much for her
fragile, the way a thin vase balances precariously
on the mantle, little earthquakes rock it back and forth
on its delicate stem. In need of support, but instead
I watch for it to fall, the way it glides through the air
gracefully, the prism of rainbow light it catches
on the way down. The…

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