Wilfredo Speaks
Bryana Joy
from the Honeymoon Postcards
Yes I know I have a name that
sounds to you like egg ribbon
pasta in snow cheese and cream
drip and when you get home maybe
that’s what you’ll remember.
But each night I wipe down wine
glasses one fragile stemmed
globe at a time. I set them aside
in a stack of shine, a future of
shatter. I have thoughts.
May I put in a word for mussels
in lemon butter broth? When steam
probes them they split their dark
shells and let their tiny hearts
dangle, succulent and soft. Don’t
get a heart of lettuce even if
it comes with golden oil and a
punch of black pepper. All the
dressings in the world can't salt
the guarded core of a glacier.
No, if you’re set on a salad can I
point you to a caprese: a speckle of
capers, a twinning of tomatoes and
mozzarella rounds? The union of
unlike things can be flavorful and
fine. Dare I say don't forget this
on the nights when you lay
under separate sections of sheet,
each as raw and pink as a pounded
shaving of carpaccio? Oh let
love be as spunky as spanakopita,
as merry as penne mariscos,
patient as a pot of lobster flushed
with rose (because after all, who
knows?) And whatever comes,
come back. The best is always
saved for last. The foam is turning
at the tail, the muddled middle
times are past. The drowsy waves
are full of moon, the shining world
is full of light. It doesn’t have to be
goodbye. It might only be goodnight.
Bryana Joy is a writer, poet, and painter who works full-time sending illustrated snail mail letters all over the world. She has lived in Turkey, East Texas, and England, and currently resides in the Lehigh Valley in Eastern Pennsylvania. Her poetry has appeared in an assortment of literary journals, and is forthcoming in Bracken, DIALOGIST, The Dillydoun Review, and others. She has a thing for thunderstorms, loose-leaf tea, green countrysides, and the music of Johann Sebastian Bach. Find her online at bryanajoy.com.