Gemma Cooper-Novack


by Gemma Cooper-Novack

                                            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.

Cooper-Novack author picGemma 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.

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