The Glitter
New Year’s Day: I lay white roses
at the apartment’s locked door — flung
open, Liz’s blush relaxes my regret
over sneaking out last night without
proper goodbye. White petals beg
before her freshly-painted toenails.
She lifts the six roses, and smiles.
Do enter my garden of mirth.
After a good morning hug and forever kiss,
renewing our passion is prompt.
As we catch our breath, she opens
a bedside drawer wallpapered with pink flowers
on a golden vine, and eases out a family bible
from between colorful scarves.
Fans provocative Polaroids of her embrace
with a glamourous woman – they are laughing,
their breasts tan, each sprinkled with glitter.
I fantasize, sudden resolution for the new year:
the photos, and this woman, and me.
I tilt my head and grin. Outside, city hydraulics
swell taming my fiction. Liz rolls her eyes
and dials a classical station – minor arpeggios
douse my daydreams.
I shouldn’t have shown you these.
A crazy one-off a long time ago.
I suspect she will soon describe me that way.
She stuffs the photos back into the bible
golden-edged pages at a random verse
and plops it on the scarves. Closes the drawer.
I admire how someone can deftly catalog
a dalliance into a cozy place, and will allow
today’s white roses to wither.
She Finally Lets Me Strum Her Martin Guitar
Aleah and I sit on her red sofa.
She extends the prized guitar
baptized Eve,
as if her infant,
trusting I am skillful.
I realign my slouch.
Slide fingers along
dovetail bridge,
rosewood curves.
Honey-grain laminate.
Dark-toned neck to a crown
of pearl pegs.
Aleah requests
I improvise a song
about her.
Roused
by Martin tone,
I quiver.
Eve purrs.
Over ivory inlay
I pluck and strum:
soundboard,
a blood-deep cavity
where her heartbeat overflows –
hushed earth claiming
our duet,
fret by fret.
Harmony arcs as my palm
eases along gloss
of Aleah’s maple spine.
Biography
Sam Barbee most-recent collection is titled Apertures of Voluptuous Force (2022, Redhawk Publishing). Three previous collections include That Rain We Needed (2016, Press 53), a nominee for the Roanoke-Chowan Award as one of North Carolina’s best poetry collections of 2016. His poems appeared in Poetry South, Salvation South, Dead Mule School of Literature, and Streetlight Magazine, also upcoming in Cave Wall, among others; plus on-line journals Ekphrastic Review, Verse Virtual, Grand Little Things, and Medusa’s Kitchen; and is a two-time Pushcart nominee.