Offcourse Literary Journal
ISSN 1556-4975 

Poems, by Tess Almendarez Lojacono.



It takes a million words to woo a woman
But only five or six
To break your heart:

We should see other people.

It’s not you, it’s me.

We can still be friends.

I need to be alone.

And if she’s feeling generous:

I have to figure something out.

But you don’t because
Goodbye is very clear.



If I Never Move

I’m standing at the kitchen sink
I’m standing at the kitchen sink
I’m standing at the kitchen sink
My hands clench cold steel taps,
And if I never move perhaps
the day will not progress.
Time will stop with me:
The sky will stay profoundly black,
Stars weeping their diamonds
Upon snow that never melts.
Birds will not awaken,
The cat and dog not age.
This pot of coffee will stay hot,
Forever it will be
Tuesday morning
Five thirty AM,
And you will not have left.


Things Disappear

My dear,
I know yesterday
I said, “I won’t throw this away”,
but then hey, I did.
Now, wasn’t that stupid?

Because here
you go, demanding it.
Your brow will knit
as you attack the recycle bin,
like a conquest. You must win.

Standing clear
I’ll murmur, “I don’t know…
It was clinging there below
your picture of the deep blue…
Now, where could it have got to?”

Your face a sneer,
you’ll be furious
and I’ll sigh because
it was just a scrap of loose leaf
in an endless blurr of paper—just one sheaf

blowing through our tiny sphere.
Like the thoughts of a moment ago,
the plans and ideas we think we sow
so real until their moment draws near—
after all, things disappear.



Tess Almendarez Lojano is a frequent contributor. See her bio page.


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