We're too complicated, she says
repeating somos demasiado complicados
torn between two tongues
our tongues touch
small talk, makeshift Spanglish
our lives unravel with each word.
I taste her mouth a last time
adios, mi vida – the last siren
syllables I half hear
I whisk my fingers across her hands
a deaf man tracing lines on roadmap
palms. She touches my face
twists her hair,
through our abandoned atmosphere.
David Colodney realized at an early age that he had no athletic ability whatsoever, so he decided to focus his attention on writing about sports instead, covering everything from major league baseball to high school flag football for The Miami Herald and The Tampa Tribune. He holds an MFA from Converse College, where he served as poetry editor of South85, the literary journal of the Converse MFA program, and also an MA from Nova Southeastern University. His poetry has appeared or will appear in St. Petersburg Review, South Carolina Review, California Quarterly, and Shot Glass Journal, among others. David was recently named a finalist in the 2017 DISQUIET Prize for Poetry. He lives in Boynton Beach, Florida with his wife, three sons, and golden retriever.