Rachel Stanford


Fallen hair. The smell of daisies lingers
on dancing  floors, feet-stomped mulch
waiting to be trashed with paper cups and bottles


she isn’t sitting under neon-sign suns
with friends, swept up in stranger’s company
who only in winter walks (home) notice


her absence. Absorbed in when he popped
 his collar, smiled at her and came over,
an overpriced, summer martini in hand.

Euphemism Campus Box 5555 Illinois State University Normal, IL 61790