“Let’s be in love for just tonight,” you said,
When I had better things to do in red
High heels. Encircling your big bad bed
Like scouts around a campfire, ahead
A ring of muscles pressing us instead
Of sense, misplacing wits, shoes shed — — outspread:
My map, your body.
Folded up: my dread.


The featured image accompanying this poem, entitled ‘Let it Grow’, has been used with the permission of artist, Wednesday Morning.

LindaAnn Loschiavo

Native New Yorker LindaAnn Loschiavo is a busy dramatist, journalist, theatre critic, and poet. Her stage plays have been seen in the USA and abroad. Her suspense drama “A Worthie Woman All Hir Live” will be filmed this year. Her poems have popped up in PIF, Mused, Chronogram, The Cape Rock, Iron Horse Review, tnr, Italian Americana, etc. She’s tried her best to be Google-worthy.

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