A lingering frost
threatens our prized lemon tree—
you ignore my touch.
© Nancy Botta, 2023
Category Archives: poetry
Nail-biter.
She keeps her compulsion
in a jaw set with grief
because busy mouths
and chatter teeth
will grind away time
and gnaw on memories
too lovely to keep.
© Nancy Botta, 2020
Mothballs.
She would cry,
but at twelve
she stuffed her eyes
with all the silica packets
and mothballs she could find,
whenever she locked herself
inside her mother’s empty closet.
© Nancy Botta, 2020
To give.
I strip off what’s left
just as you asked;
see here are my bones,
they rattle and clang
like teeth in a sink.
Whatever drips
is a mess on the floor;
see here is some hair,
wet and mashed
pulled from my throat.
I’m sorry for the stains
it’s all darker than I thought;
see here are my eyes,
punctured cornea
dribbling ink blots and salt.
It’s all gone
just cavities and echoes;
see here is where I end,
a vanishing fog
wishing you’d tell me to stop.
© Nancy Botta, 2020
Rusted Honey 