The 2023 issue of Caesura: objects in the mirror is a print publication of Poetry Center San Jose.
Thank you all for reading!
The Hole
twinge
above your right brow
in a mirror that dusky spot
the hole
acute scalene deep
about an inch in height
just above your right eyeball
loosened from its socket
oozing blood
from cracks around your lids
a clear view
to the back of your skull—
the bone is floodlit like a surgical theater
accentuating the osseous fabric’s
orderly interweaving of dark
green lettuce leaves
with your head’s sealed fissures
it makes no sense
but to accept it—
your neighbor who constantly drops by
unannounced needs you again
to watch her kids tomorrow afternoon
“for just a few hours”
sure not a problem
she’ll be inviting you to her wedding this summer
“third time’s the charm”
how nice
a flash
on the porcelain screen
(where your brain should be)
previews the upcoming afternoon—
gazebo with picnic tables
at the breezy confluence
of the Columbia & Willamette rivers
daylight encasing you in the naked
mole-rat’s skin you’d mistaken
for a modest-pink sundress
siphoning the cash bar’s cut-rate Riesling
as you try to make small-talk without thinking
about the cool tingle of exposed bone
above your right brow
flora slick in plasma creeping out—
which puts extra strain on the wobbly eyeball…



I love this strange and wonderful poem!
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Grazie, Amore Mío! I’m glad my days of sterile, barely functioning self-sufficiency are all in the rearview mirror…
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Prego! I am glad that you are here, that we are a we.
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Congrats, Stephanie!
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☺️💖
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I’m always impressed with the depth of detail you are able to access and use in a poem! Congrats, Stephanie, and what a perfect poem for the Hallowe’en season!
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Thank you, Lynne 😊
I can credit my crazy subconscious (dream brain) for its disturbing/fascinating/strangely apt take on sensory overload and social anxiety…
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I’d like to have a dream brain like yours!
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Congratulations, Stephanie!
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☺️💖
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YIKES! Quite the mix of traumatic and mundane – fascinating imagery.
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Thanks, Jazz! If I live to 100, I’ll never be able to explain where the lettuce came from… But I went with the dream-logic, anyway. 🤪🥬
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I echo Jazz’s sentiments, Stephanie. Such powerful imagery. And — always a bonus — you expanded my vocabulary. 🙂 Congratulations on the publication!
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Osseous? 🤓
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Scalene. As I’ve gotten older and stiffer, variations on “osseous” have become too familiar. 🙂
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Oy! I should’ve known!
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I missed this one – and 👁️ love it… Seriously, the creeping horror of social obligation is always rich soil to till; it’s probably about 90% of my nightmares 😅
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Right?
“But, don’t they see the gaping hole in my head? I mean, it couldn’t be more obvious…”
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