Hidden Costs

    
it was the sound the coffee pot let out while finishing 
that every parent, coupled or alone, asked for a grapefruit 
and titos to ritualize their saturdays, and it had to be me 
to provide, to carry croissants toward a very warm box 
that it would be time to go home eventually, everyone 
out of money, apron to the wayside I still greeted the door 
and glimpsed the discoveries strangers made outside 
my cheeks turned into a portrait of the weather, stable 
unyielding little cooks, she made an X across her chest 
to indicate a wall, when the wall would be demolished 
was not up to her, though it could be, if you were good here 
you must be good there too, I wished for muscle 
mass that would propel me in slow motion, I wished 
to not look back, as I have not done in this poem
I wished foolishly to let each feeling burn within me 
slowly enough that I would rely on objects to dictate 
time by red and green light, the quart of juice now empty 
or even smaller units, the disappearance of olives 
I wonder aloud how the blossom above could

 

  

HANNAH TREASURE POET

HANNAH TREASURE is a recent graduate of Brooklyn College’s MFA program in poetry. She is also an adjunct lecturer in Brooklyn College’s English Department and a server in the West Village. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Cordella Magazine, Sonora Review, The Shanghai Literary Review, and FORTH.

 

FEATURED IN  86 LOGIC 'ZINE ISSUE 2