In the curve of her neck, there’s longing for the man.
In her closed throat, fear.

Through sheer will
she freezes the waiter’s sleeve mid-air
as he presents the bill to her lover.

Stop, let me bend back the hour,
I haven’t been abandoned in a third-rate café.

Just give me a little blue to fly toward, that’s all I ask,
and just a little time.

Image credit:Hiva Sharifi/Unsplash

Trish Saunders lives in Seattle. Her poetry and short fiction are seen in American Journal of Poetry, Off The Coast Literary Magazine, Blast Furnace Press, Pacifica Poetry Review, Silver Birch Press, Eunoia Review, and Seattle Poetry Bus. Right Hand Pointing published her chapbook, "Last Note" in 2019.