Poetry from The Literary Review



Armani Weather

ELAINE EQUI

In that long
navy blue
cashmere coat,
he was made
to do nothing
but lean against
tall buildings.
A somber
exclamation point,
eating an apple—
turning it slowly
into ballet.
How extravagant
yet restrained,
the way he wears
the space
around his body
loosely.
Even the light matches,
pale and cold
and slightly green,
like the apple
against his dark skin.




Intersections

ELAINE EQUI

I'm at the corner of Can't & Won't.
In the kiosk between Aroma & Automatic,
Squirm & Squall,
Minimal Art & Minimum Wage.

I'm trying to get to Hilt & Vine.
The high-priestess in the high-rise

and the persona in the persona-non-grata-dept.
both told me that if I cut across Performance

& Fugue, Mayday & Kind, it would put me
on the quad next to the grid

near Bittersweet & Icarus
and from there I could walk.