poetry

A Banal Sort of Betrayal.

The mid century outdoor sconce
I helped your wife install last summer
illuminates;
your slightly receding hairline,
5 day old stubble,
sweat stains on a blouse,
the glint of a best friend
charm on my wrist—
your forehead slick with guilt
when my arms, encircling your neck,
remind you
that we never truly cared
about all the lines we’ve crossed.

© Nancy Botta, 2019

Standard
poetry

Bouquet.

pink flowers photograph

 

She powders the clematis
blooming around her neck,
and dabs at red posies
planted on fat lips,
she paints her skin fresh
like the calla lilies he sent her,
to make up for flower pots
smashed on her doorstep.

© Nancy Botta, 2019

Standard