Deborah Scott Studebaker
if the road is straight, advance two paces / if the sun is dying, step back again
/ I’m not great with numbers / but maybe there’s some glitter on my hand
one blue city
two hornets in a pocket
three nouns that smell like bleach
if diagonals bode well for navigation / then horizon lines confine you
/ if december brings tomatoes / you’re in someone else’s dream
four talking horses
five family curses
six disappearing beauties
if your present tense is interrupted / hurry the leaves across the street
/ if the past is in your suitcase / spin again
seven Evelyns with handbags
eight imported fortune tellers
nine abandoned marrow spoons
if you’ve eaten the perfume of flowers / but forgotten to water the trees
/ your opponent is in the same room / run
Deborah Scott Studebaker is a Los Angeles poet and writing teacher. She writes while walking with her Notes app, praises the poetry of auto-correct, and believes that movement liberates language. You can find her work at New Note Poetry and Roi Fainéant Press, among others.
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