Balancing with the topless bottle of vodka
And fighting away stray brown hairs,
She leans over the faux fur, and faux leather
Of an armchair meant for swinging smokers,
Though she will not let that sin indoors.
A lamp illuminates her hand as she reaches
To turn off the vintage egg-yellow light,
The bulbs glowing on the cross nailed to the wall
Continue to grant their standard halo glow,
Though there are no bowery bums to welcome.
Her good news is in the bottle, she drinks,
Standing over a hundred outlines of her body
Reflected in the disco balls spread out on the floor,
The cross, now smaller, is over her shoulders,
She wonders if this is what the buzzing flies see.
Ben Nardolilli currently lives in Arlington, Virginia. His work has
appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, Danse Macabre, The 22 Magazine,
Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, fwriction, THEMA, Pear Noir, The Minetta
Review, and Yes Poetry. He has a chapbook Common Symptoms of an
Enduring Chill Explained, from Folded Word Press. He blogs at
mirrorsponge.blogspot.com and is looking to publish a novel.