qarrtsiluni

vocalist solo

by David-Glen Smith

1
—and that’s all it takes,
(even mid-song) one slight glance
across a small room.

2
Or even mid-phrase.
Mid-word. And then the falling
into vertigo.

3
As casual as
slipping into mama’s dress,
stepping out to dance.

4
Nights of Latin jazz,
a time when I’d wear music
as a second skin—

5
all past sensations
returning from just one quick
glance of a stranger—

6
It is just too much—
when a full stranger mirrors
a past memory,

7
reflecting the face
of my brother: his earring,
his stance and movements,

8
a gentle haunting,
which clings, even years later,
as if time derailed,

9
as if this city
transposed itself to somewhere
else—to fractured scenes

10
stolen from the past,
before the epiphanies
or experience,

11
before changed notions
of self took hold, unfolding
paper memory.

12
His attention falls
elsewhere, seeking out someone
in this small grey room.

13
I close my dark eyes.
Step further into myself.
Acknowledge the past.

14
Across the tables,
the boy’s dragonfly tattoo
trembles, as he leaves—

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David-Glen Smith (website, blog) has had work in various magazines including: Assaracus, The Centrifugal Eye, ffrrfr, The Fertile Source, Houston Literary Review, Lady Jane Miscellany, Louisville Review, Mid-America Review, Saltwater Quarterly, Slant and The Steel-Toe Review. In addition, a recent print anthology titled Ganymede — Unfinished accepted two of his poems. In December 2010, he and his partner of ten years welcomed a baby boy into their lives: new topics and inspirations for poetry projects. They currently reside in Cypress, Texas where David-Glen teaches English Literature at both Wharton County Junior College and Lone Star College — CyFair.