Alexis K. Rotella
Carlos Colon

My mother the Leo
heads for
the purple coat.

Footprint on the hand
clutching Mardi Gras beads.

No one comes
to look at the house -
February eclipse.

My shadow
races me home

Two women
competing -
yoga class.

Wouldn't hurt a fly
reincarnated spider.

Shower of
cherry blossoms
with each chop.

Valentine's Day -
multiple offers on our house.

in the front yard.

Made for a mermaid
this red evening dress.

two popsicle sticks

b f

r i

o n

k g

e e

n r

Grape-colored tulips
in an all white room.

The plumber
takes a leak
in our backyard.

Green flushing
into blue.

Haunted -
the place across
from the waterfront.

Loose board
on the third step

The cat
on Prozac -
more guilt.

Smile on my face

In last night's dream
I was
a lesbian.

Sharing your nightmare
in a pair of pantyhose.

Two yuppies
puffing on cigars
tears in their eyes.

A shot for each hand
Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.

He keeps looking
at his watch -
the psychiatrist.

My anxiety
feeding on yours.

Only the piranha
left in
the tank.

Night fishing
I slowly reel in the moon.

In his whites
Navy cadet at the
bubblegum machine.

After the movie
her Crackerjack smile.

The fiddler
on her break
orders crab.

Time-out for the two-year-old
and granddaddy.

Mallards nibbling
lotus shoots.

the position.

Their bedroom
bordello red.

at the window

Her name
not in
the deed.

Shredded letter from
The National Library of Poetry

Feb. 2 - May 24, l999