by Claire Scott
I felt the slap before I met you at Raleighs
that rainy Friday last March
an OkCupid match, perfect on paper
salsa, chocolate sundaes, The Sopranos
both carnivorous, no sissy vegan food
my face stung for hours
I felt the fist before our first drink
dry vodka martinis with a twist
almost twins in our taste, picking cashews
out of the bowl of salted nuts
my cheekbone broken black and blue
my face sealed with scars
When I saw you that first time last March
the future had unfolded in the past
the present was a hand on my thigh
a tongue in my ear
I knew I couldn’t set it right
but I didn’t care
Claire Scott is an award winning poet who has received multiple Pushcart Prize nominations. Her work has been accepted by the Atlanta Review, Bellevue Literary Review, New Ohio Review, Enizagam and Healing Muse among others. Claire is the author of Waiting to be Called and Until I Couldn’t. She is the co-author of Unfolding in Light: A Sisters’ Journey in Photography and Poetry.
Emerge Literary Journal 