five hours by plane, we got drunk in
her kitchen and stomped our feet when
we laughed and dunked ice cubes with
our index fingers into glasses of whiskey.
One night later, she introduced me to
her friend, a madman with hair like silk
and I got all wrapped up in his strange
colors. He sang me his songs and I,
swept away, warmed to him.
We wrangled that night on a twin bed
in the guest room and slept, my fingers
tangled in his hair, his pale back against me.
The next morning he was strange, silent,
beautiful still, but his eyes wanted nothing
from me and, when I touched his hand,
he pulled away. He reached into a bowl
on the Cedar Heights buffet where there
was fresh fruit. “Here,” he said, “have an orange.”
Like Cisneros, I am delighted with my disasters.
Martina Reisz Newberry’s most recent book is
LEARNING BY ROTE (Deerbrook Press). She is also the author
of WHAT WE CAN’T FORGIVE. LATE NIGHT RADIO,
PERHAPS YOU COULD BREATHE FOR ME. HUNGER,
AFTER THE EARTHQUAKE: POEMS 1996-2006, NOT
UNTRUE & NOT UNKIND (Arabesques Press) and R
UNNING LIKE A WOMAN WITH HER HAIR ON FIRE: C
ollected Poems (Red Hen Press). Her poetry has appeared
in numerous journals over the past four decades. Martina lives
in Hollywood, California with her husband Brian and their best
4-legged pal, Charlie the Cat.