“Do introverts get
lonely?” Dogs don’t answer, snore
on floor by queen bed.
“Make More Love” wall art
laughs above my pillowed head,
hung before breakup.
Hugless in Phoenix
cuddles chiweenie’s silk fur,
inhales musk and warmth.
Masks dangle key rack:
floral, lip prints, checkered; three
are grandgirl’s, three mine.
Gray birds perch upper
branches of yellow ash tree,
look down. I look up.
About Susan Vespoli
Susan Vespoli writes from Arizona. She’s had work published in spots such as Rattle, Mom Egg Review, Nailed Magazine, Anti-Heroin Chic, and Nasty Women Poets: An Unapologetic Anthology of Subversive Verse.
