Fiction   Essays   Poetry  The Ten On Baseball Chapbooks In Memory






Susan Alkaitis



Kissing

My kiss is too hard,
you told me once.
Now, when I watch
you close your eyes,
your gentle mouth
against mine,
I imagine myself
as cement.
I have to restrain.


Rare Bird

You dive
to me then shoot
away, circling then gone
because you don’t prey.

I search the sky for your wings,
A plummeting speck
then you appear
from nothing and I blink.

If I could pray I would
bleach my marrow and fall
away from the earth
to follow you.




©2010 by Susan Alkaitis

Susan Alkaitis works for an international environmental organization in Colorado, where she lives with her husband and young son. She has a BA in creative writing from Colorado College, and an MFA in Dance from the University of Utah.


  Home Contributors Past Issues Search   Links  Guidelines About Us


Subscribe to the Slow Trains newsletter

.