By Tanya Grae
Featured Art: by Prateek Katyal
Someone thinks I’m beautiful again
& likes posts of my day, comments.
I stifle smiles & feel uncontainable—
bungeed off ether & the interplay.
Punch-drunk in this blue-sky space,
a rush of the past, the in-between,
whole chapters, I open annuals
& albums from storage. His change
in status: single. Papers in hand,
this backlit man heaves toward
the kite’s trailing end: What if?—
that butterfly. My youngest lights
onto my lap. Who’s that?—
as a key turns the lock, I log off.
Tanya Grae recently won the 2016 Tennessee Williams/New Orleans Literary Festival Poetry Prize, selected by Yusef Komunyakaa, and is the author of the forthcoming chapbook Little Wekiva River (Five Oaks Press). She holds an MFA from Bennington College and is currently a PhD candidate at Florida State University. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in AGNI, The Florida Review, New South, The Los Angeles Review, Barrow Street, Fjords, and elsewhere.