A Romance to Night

October 2023 | poetry

In the crisp death of summer, a cat

falls from a broken branch.

The moon sings, amused by paw

half-crushed under the stares of a passing car.

Vacant children drive purposely

through the blaze-maze of gilded cul-de-sacs

scattered with condoms and crushed fireball nips,

numb to clouds adulting overhead.

Outside the bar a couple try to kiss for the first time.

On the fire escape, some woman hums anxiously sweeping.

Waiting, I stare into my scotch

as the glow from an RCA television

and smells of ammonia suffocate the pub.

Above the bar, the moon reflects a rooftop coop.

The pigeon sits upright in its wired grave, cooing

as a priest doubles over.

Ed Gaudet

Ed Gaudet is a writer who lives in Hanover, Massachusetts, where he is a cybersecurity software entrepreneur in healthcare. He has written for Forbes Magazine. His journey with poetry began at an early age and grew during university where he studied under poet Ruth Lepson and was greatly influenced by Robert Creeley. While attending Bentley University, he was the Editor-in-Chief of its literary magazine, Piecework. In 1999, Ed was awarded the grand prize for his poem, “Sitting Shiva,” which appeared in Into the Sun. His work has appeared in The Inflectionist Review, Panoply, Clade Song, and Book of Matches, Lit.

Girl #4

October 2023 | poetry

Back there, someone crowned me.

Yes, me! — Where do you think

I got these carnations?

I’d like to unclaim candidacy,

but there’s already a Klimtish woman

threading my hands with rings while

someone calls for shin ribbons.

A man cradling five pincushions

coaxes my sclerae to bloom.

I enter on a bridge of hands.

Dozens, it seems, press my midriff,

and thumb my hair.

What’s this? Only halfway

to the stage, and they’re dragging

dimes from my curls. Too much

tugging, clinking,

I feel myself kick —

When I find my way home,

you’ll have many questions, like:

Out so late? Tea, my love?

Darling, where are your shoes?

I’ll promise to explain later,

complain of a headache —

could be the cold, or the hour,

or maybe the wind,

rattling the coin slot

wedged between my eyes.

Christianne Goodwin

Christianne’s chapbook “Oracle Smoke Machine”, a collaboration with painter Stephen Proski, is forthcoming with Staircase Books (Cambridge, MA). Her work has been published by Rust + Moth, The Lakeshore Review, Fahmidan Journal, and Panel Magazine. She is a graduate of the Boston University MFA program, the recipient of an Academy of American Poets University Prize, and a Robert Pinsky Global Fellow.