Fernando Smith





Poetry 4



The stain and the memory of the stain


I was the one who tossed

kittens on the fire

the one who took your hand

and danced on the street

lost in the middle of

Europe, seeing it


was working I made a

promise targeted

deep into your ear. In

a hushed canoodle

I laid down a straight four

to the floor, none of


this beating around the



"Today, please"




Later, you told me your

story by the sweep

of the river. Someone

passed by sniffing, his

nose was bleeding as he

remembered a girl

a singer

a movie

a schoolteacher's car

something far, far away.

3D9D2677-CB3D-4768-9BF4-FB2EE298350D HPIM1247