Infatuation

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I am in love with silence
The way it can fracture a room

how it moves across the stairway
through you
as if you wore the wrong dress

I step in and out of the false quiet
as if it is a kept woman
as if it understands the agreements of
entrance and exit

I hold its hand, only when convenient
only behind the champagne table
when no one else is looking

I act as if the wooden beams of the ceiling
are not falling

I pretend this room was not
built on a fault line
I pretend the plates of language
have not slipped like a loose jaw bone

and I am not standing here
bracing myself
in a doorway
already collapsing

Infatuation by Connie Post


Photo from page 193 of “The San Francisco earthquake and fire; a brief history of the disaster; a presentation of facts and resulting phenomena, with special reference to the efficiency of building materials, lessons of the disaster” (1906)




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About Author

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Connie Post served as first Poet Laureate of Livermore, California Her work has appeared in Calyx, Comstock Review, Cold Mountain Review, Slipstream, Spillway, River Styx, Spoon River Poetry Review, Valparaiso Poetry Review and Verse Daily. Her first full length book Floodwater (Glass Lyre Press) won the 2014 Lyrebird Award. Her chapbook “And When the Sun Drops” won the 2012 Aurorean Editor’s chapbook prize. Her poetry awards include the 2018 Liakoura Award, the Caesura Award and the 2016 Crab Creek Poetry Award.

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