published by Serving House Journal
If a Song’s
If a song’s lyrics are a poem
and there shouldn’t be you
in a poem,
but there you are
in a song,
what does that mean?
That you shouldn’t be there,
but there you are.
I will replace you with him.
He doesn’t fit like you do.
I will replace you with her.
She doesn’t fit like you do, either.
That ends it, I guess.
Here I am without anyone.
I want to say
without you,
but I can’t say you
and I can’t not
say you.
There has to be a scramble
out of this thorny pronoun situation—
the you versus him,
the him versus her,
the we versus me.
Still, there’s the question
of where you are,
being not of poem,
but of song
and I being too weak
not to say
you.
But where are you?
I know where you are.
There you are.
A little spider with a bubble
on your back,
hanging by a thread,
tangling in my hair.
© 2009 Lisa Segal
What Lola Wants
To my surprise, Lola looked up from her sewing and said,
“Read me one line from what you’re writing.”
She’d turned the full force of her blue eyes
and Spanish accent on me.
Her question was direct and clear.
It’d be a lie to pretend I didn’t notice
the challenge in her voice.
It’d be a lie to pretend I hadn’t heard
or understood her request.
It’d be a lie to pretend I didn’t consider
pretending it anyway.
It’d be a lie to pretend I didn’t wish
she hadn’t asked.
Yeah, it’d be a lie to pretend
I’d be doing anything but
reading her a line of poetry.
On another channel, as the congested
river of my realities
encircles my corporeal body,
my connective self stretches towards Lola
as she waits for what she wants.
I know that when I cross back to my side of me
and cast my eyes down to the journal in my hand
I will make a choice and read a line.
As I decide so many other important things,
I’ll do it with a cursory glance at my options,
a sharp intake of breath, and a salting
of the familiar fear that
I’ll be sorry I’ve done this.
“I’ll read you the first line,” I say
and begin, “If a song’s...”
© 2009 Lisa Segal
