Page 47 - WTP VOl. VIII #6
P. 47

 Lunch in Hartford
You watch the sky slip sideways like water,
The clouds sluicing toward inevitable ocean, Afternoon the intricate gears of a medieval clock. Martinis are an exercise in precision,
The olive’s cruel toothpick pointing north Toward tundra that’s nothing like Connecticut, Ice-colored pillowcases, honeymoon sheets.
You watch the sky and tell time by the wind— See how it shifts at two o’clock—and drink Until the sunlight slopes the cut-glass pitcher And divides itself to patterns on the table.
In place of certainty, ritual, nodding to
A waiter you recognize, his jacket spotless
As the cool cheek of the woman you cannot kiss.
Franklin is the author of two poetry collections, Traveling for No Good Reason (winner of the Sheila-Na-Gig Editions competition, 2018), and a bilingual vol- ume, Among the Ruins / Entre las ruinas (Katakana Editores). He’s the winner of the 2020 Stephen A. DiBiase Poetry Prize (Poetry Ireland). His work has also appeared in Panoply, Into the Void, The Threepenny Review, Salamander, Pedestal Magazine, Cagibi, and The American Journal of Poetry. A lawyer in Miami, he also teaches poetry workshops in Florida state prisons, and is the co-translator of Ximena Gómez's Último día/Last Day (Katakana Editores). His poem “Shreveport” was printed by Broadsided Press.
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