IT ISN’T STILLNESS
It is disruption and distortion Beneath your lips and buttery leather fingertips doors spring apart—you are every- where and nowhere and now here, and these nights, these nights these nights when you can’t be found are long like legs. You watch blankly from mahogany mantles, shifting scales. You angle and rustle, everywhere and nowhere like sirens, en route to somewhere where you should be else. Your tone never changes; your arms are always smooth. You block each twist smoothly, everywhere and nowhere and now there, now there. When the shifting shifting hips and tequila-tongued whispers planes of your face pause like sculpture, it isn’t stillness: on every elevator you crackle with fissures, everywhere and nowhere like breathing, your fingerprints found only in in and out like tides one spot, your heartbeat ragged.
Gemma Cooper-Novack is a writer, writing coach, and arts educator based in Boston. Her poetry has appeared in Amethyst Arsenic (2013), ParkPages (2013), Blast Furnace Review (2013), Hanging Loose (1998, 2000, 2011, 2012), Lyre Lyre (2013), PressBoard Press (2013), Rufous City Review (2012), The Saint Ann’s Review (2003, 2005, 2009), and Spry (2013), and is forthcoming in Ballard Street Poetry Journal, Construction, and Referential. Her fiction is forthcoming in Elsewhere and Printer’s Devil Review. Her plays have been produced in Chicago and New York.