Tag Archives: The Main Street Rag

“Meeting My Old Boyfriend after Thirty Years” by Dianne Silvestri

He phoned asking to meet for lunch,
after long silence since I shoved
his frat pin back the year after
we left for college. He’d looked me up.

In high school already he knew what he wanted
and made me do it, those years before
I knew I could refuse. Now I preempted
his predictable persuasive monologue.

I wore a confident shirt and make-up,
took along photos of my husband and children
to show and tell my escape.
He was easy to spy, but the smart team captain’s

eyes now seemed crocodile green,
his smile toothy, Roman nose too thin.
His build was fuller, self-assurance unchanged.
I gave a firm handshake, ordered chicken salad.

After comparing updates on family
and careers—he married, no children—
talk brought his news of others from our class,
one dead already.

I politely gathered up the end,
accepted his card and spotted the note
penned on the corner, “if there’s any interest,”
dropped it into my bag.

Dianne Silvestri, author of the chapbook Necessary Sentiments, has had poems appear in The Main Street RagEarth’s Daughters, The Comstock ReviewEvening Street ReviewThe Worcester Review, PulseThe Healing Muse, and elsewhere. A Pushcart nominee, she is Copy-Editor of the journal Dermatitis and leads the Morse Poetry Group.

 

Mapping The Gnomes by Christina M. Rau

Stuck in a corkboard,
all sightings get categorized—

Red:  Definite
Blue: Possible
Yellow: Probable
Orange: Unlikely

A 3-D connect-the-dots journey
between bushes in Brussels
under azaleas in Iceland
among marigolds in Massachusetts
through paved paths in Puerto Rico
behind vines in Bellvue
around weeds in West Germany.

Reports come in rapid at sunrise
when the light excites and surprises—
three or four skittering across lawns and behind
old dog houses, their voices louder than
you’d think, if that’s that kind of thing
you think about.

They shout Make Way! Hold Back!
They move in scattered variety,
hurry to their places to
complement the poppies
accent the petunias
uphold the underbrush
with a wink, with a wish.

The big board tracks all the movement,
an attempt to capture magic
on the head of a pin.


Christina M. Rau is the author of the poetry chapbooks WakeBreatheMove (Finishing Line Press, 2015) and For The Girls, I (Dancing Girl Press, 2014). Founder of Poets In Nassau, a reading circuit on Long Island, NY, her poetry has appeared on gallery walls in The Ekphrastic Poster Show, on car magnets for The Living Poetry Project, and most recently in the journals Amethyst Arsenic and Better Than Starbucks. In her non-writing life, she practices yoga occasionally and line dances on other occasions. www.christinamrau.com