Poetry Issue 15

   Issue #17 : July-December 2012

Dawn Tefft

Hubris of the Weather Forecaster


      I know how to box
      with my hips. Dancing only Nina
      Simone could appreciate.

      I'm no ballerina. I've got the scarred lip
      to prove it.

      Still, I like to travel.

      Matt said I held my toothbrush like a knife
      when I came down his stairs.

      I like to travel light.
      I like to travel mean.

      Gather your children and your books.


      Here's my agenda for the week:

      1. Build a fake castle, storm it     and burn it.

      I make Spinoza my husband.
      We go to the mall
      and pick out a few things.

      I avoid certain streets
      where the cars are aroused.

      I drown noise.

      Once the walls have gone white,
      I begin.

      I write out: this is intentional.


      A thirty-year-old woman
      said her mother used to buy
      all her clothes, said
                I had to cross an ocean
                to learn my size.

      She's an eight, if my eye is good.
      A six, if not.

      Some people have to marry hard.
      Some of us don't.