Sharon Zetter

Two Poems

Donna Reed

Let’s move to the movies, darling.
Make sure our seats recline.

Saturday night and I’m left home. Fuck
your empty invitations.

I’ll coax pansies from tar.
Windows flare in and tires flow by.

A kitchen named Blanche and two
white cats to match the mixer.

These condos have eyes.

A Comedy About Lost Loves And Last Laughs

Desire [like the atom] is explosive with creative force.  Today I stood in front of the mirror [my
black bra] and noted that I was beautiful.  I noted that you [noted that you] made a considerable
effort to wave to me in the bar.  It has now been three weeks since we have been spending 75%
less time.  I have grown 13% more beautiful in our absence.

Like Meg Ryan in that movie where Broderick tracks the path [flat-lined to oval] of his lover’s
lips.  I have never been punched in the face [am told this is a character flaw].  Who can I get to
punch me in the face?  I wonder what fraction of me will [remain] damage.

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