We were drunk. Night-streets glittered from the glass
alloyed with tar in asphalt. The humid air
amplified every car-alarm and laugh.
A second-floor psychic lit her neon sign.
Up the stairs, we found her coaxing music
from an old radio, her table spread
with trinkets molded for the craft of longing.
What she divined, I can’t recall. We left
as sweepers drove and taverns locked their doors.
Maybe she foretold our sheets and showers,
when morning stunned us, and we went to work
still drunk, through city streets unjeweled by day.
—
Dana Delibovi is a poet living in Missouri. Her poems have appeared in The Formalist, Mid Rivers Review, Orphic Lute, Red Tape, Spirituality & Health, and the Poetry Society of America’s Poetry in Motion series. She is the recipient of the 2014 and 2019 James Haba Award for poetry.
The Zingara Project 