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Michael Internicola
Blankets of Snow on a Plate of Beef Wellington
she walks bent
over a little bit
on blankets of snow
and she likes to
laugh and she wants to be in love
more than anything else in this world.
her favorite dish is some steak number
i can't pronounce and she wears
a watch from tiffany's
that her father gave her when she was twenty one years old.
she walks bent
over a little bit
on blankets of snow
and she likes to
laugh and she wants to be in love
more than anything else in this world
and she stands by that love or no love and always smiles.
she's the stem that holds up everything beautiful
like her pink toenails or the tango.
Warren Haynes
i want to write
like warren haynes
plays his guitar.
it's enough to
make the three
used rubbers on
the floor have feelings,
enough to make those
twenty butts in the
ashtray get up and dance.
©2004 by Michael Internicola
Michael Internicola came to New York City to go to film school,
and in the seven years since, he's written five books, made a
movie, sold manicures and pedicures and served many many drinks. He earned a
B.A. in English from Canisus College in 1994. Poems, prose and excerpts from his
three novels have appeared in James River Poetry Review, Ragged Edge, Caffeine
Magazine, The Surface, Kant Magazine, Remark, Write This, The-Hold Magazine,
Antipatico, The Quadrangle, Mule, Spent Meat, Catalyst Journal and The
Mosquito Lounge Review.
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