POETRY by Francine Witte

Francine Witte's poetry has been published in many national journals such as Cream City Review, Confrontation and The Bellingham Review.  Her poetry chapbook, "The Magic in the Streets," was published as the first-prize winner in the Owl Creek Press poetry contest. She has an MFA in poetry from Vermont College.

Pavlov’s Cat   probably yawned through it all,   the bells, the saliva, that shameless display   of need. And Pavlov’s cat might have swiveled its head   and, for all we know, said “y’know hunger’s a bitch – it’ll screw up your life.   Now, just look at me – I haven’t tasted in years.   My mouth doesn’t water for food or for love.   And just feel my tongue, my sandpaper tongue – so cool, uneventful, and dry.

Bijou   In the cooled hush of the movie theaters, the films hum, spinning clockwise, the only true direction. The films are never run backwards by mistake like when we were children and there was just a man, a solitary man in the booth. We don’t see the muscles jerk in reverse across the screen or hear the chipmunk chatter of Saturday afternoons. The projectionist threads us forward, and we are grown, still waiting for the sweeping gowns and the close-ups the show us the murder weapon – just another cruel trick that is one day exposed because we are just too old. Being adult is the slow spinning out of what you can’t do anymore. Or maybe it’s the realization that forward is the only door that will open and turning back would be like searching the wall for a secret panel and hoping to be breathed back in,   which is why we cringe when some runaway train hurtles too quickly across the screen, moving towards the final credits, unstoppable as seconds sliced away and steady as the slap of stray film left turning at the end of a reel.

A Note To All Women   A woman is a fortune.   She can spend herself silly and still   there is more.   A woman is a fortune. She can loosen her arms,   send her dreams flying high, watch them ride on the same single breath   that blew them alive.   Yes, a woman is a fortune, all diamond and ruby and pearl,   grandmother or girl, she is pumping life from her blood-   red heart, from her sweet-smelling skin. This is a note to all women:   you already glitter.  So begin your dreams.  Begin.