The Longest Ride
canned music tinkles
through the speakers,
shoulder-to-shoulder
faces intently study
the lighted numbers
10, 9, 8—ding;
two passengers
unknot themselves
from the pack
and disembark,
shuffling, a cough,
someone hits
the close door button
then everyone resumes
ardent concentration,
as if the numbers
can coat the silence
the way honey
coats the throat,
7, 6, 5—ding
the door opens,
four people enter
one couple says,
we’ll wait for the next one
4—stop
3—stop
ground floor, finally;
the door slides open
people disperse,
fluttering and chattering
like a flock of birds
after the storm has passed
Cold Shoulder
It was her way—
tight-lipped,
eyes staring
into the distance,
back rigid
as an ironing board;
he’d asked her
what was wrong,
waited—listened
to the dripping faucet,
to a rogue cricket
chirping from a corner
of the narrow kitchen,
but he knew no answer
would come
from those dead-bolt lips;
it was her way,
arms folded
across her chest,
a cauldron of thoughts
locked inside
her stubborn head.
No Words
Unspeakable hurt—
the kind that curls you
into a fetal position,
leaves you to lie
in a darkened room
where even the bravest
ray of sun
dares not breathe
through closed blinds,
the kind of hurt
that dams up tears,
lodges them in the back
of the throat;
there’s simply nothing
to say
and nowhere to go
except inside yourself.
Arvilla Fee teaches English and is the managing editor for the San Antonio Review. She has published poetry, photography, and short stories in numerous presses, including Calliope, North of Oxford, Rat’s Ass Review, Mudlark, and many others. Her poetry books, The Human Side and This is Life, are available on Amazon. Arvilla loves writing, photography and traveling, and she never leaves home without a snack and water (just in case of an apocalypse). For Arvilla, writing produces the greatest joy when it connects us to each other. To learn more about her work, you can visit her website: https://soulpoetry7.com/
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