I left my heart
on a Greyhound bus on the night
of the lunar eclipse when my seat-mate
drank vodka and neon-red fruit punch
from a soda cup, called every relative he had,
and begged them to look out the window, told them
about another eclipse he’d seen,
bus and remembered beach rumbling
with the same tide and I
read your favorite book that night all
the way through without stopping
as the man beside me stared out, heart still standing
in the water on a shore far away,
years younger and his mother
standing behind him as the darkness stretched
across the sun and yes, I held the paperback
up near my face in the fizzing yellow light
pooling just above my head and yes,
I mailed back your book.
***
Sidney Dritz is currently reevaluating what to do with the rest of her life, which makes the angle to take in bios tricky. She finished her three-college tour of America at the University of Southern Maine, and her poetry has appeared in Glass Poetry Press’s #PoetsResist series, in Claw & Blossom, and in Measure for Measure: An Anthology of Poetic Meters. Twitter: @sidneydritz.
***
image: Rob Kaniuk
Rejection Letters 