Regardless of how fond and fondling
stars inculcate the dark
there is yet to press the wax seal
against each enveloped space—
gaps infinite and intimate
a woman standing by a window,
her back to the audience of antiques:
everything remains mad in its sanity,
the cheapest paradox conflates
being with mortgages: one payment remitted
like a man’s hand making
her shoulder knotted.
About the poet:
Marina Soler was born in 1986, and received her MFA from Arizona University. She works as a legal secretary and weekend cellist to pay down her debt and avoid an academic career while she writes. Her work has appeared in Fabula, Texas Hold Em, The Ontario Review, and Incline Quarterly. She lives in Las Cruces, New Mexico, with her three wolf hounds, Finnegan, Cuchalain, and Sparky.