Stephanie Valente: When You Laugh by Starlight

SUN BATHING

they sat by the water
languid bodies on bored sundays
eye frames and red soup cans

they spoke of school yards
bent golf clubs
the price of gold
and the weight of kissing
measured by silver

they spoke
and wallowed
and rubbed their wrists
until
everything
was
all right. 



WHEN YOU LAUGH BY STARLIGHT


after the golf and champagne glass game is over
empty soda bottles, crumpled cocktail napkins
and the food musters
disposable plates

there is no use, for hands to hold
under running water, you say
ten speed bikes
and long scarves
are trademarks
you bare

with laughter
and missing steps, buzzed
pedaling

misguided, 
i turn, shuffle
thinking of the empty bottles
the wet book of matches
useless

and you ring my telephone
in the morning
like a classified ad
or looking for a lost pet. 

Editor's Note: These poems appeared in a previous issue.

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Stephanie Valente lives in Brooklyn, New York, and works as an editor. One day, she would like to be a silent film star. She is the author of Hotel Ghost (Bottlecap Press, 2015) and Waiting for the End of the World (Bottlecap Press, 2017).  Her work has appeared in  dotdotdash, Nano Fiction, LIES/ISLE, and Uphook Press. She can be found at her website.