Stage Direction

poetry about separation


Kiss (rewind) Act three comes every night.
It’s (soft) fleeting, but my first in years.
Hands stroking my hips (nails chewed to the quick).
I’m not yours. Was I ever (the sort to become property?)?
The curtain should have parted us (forever).
Kiss (rewind) you are a boy. (Fool.) A child.
And still you do not see me, even when you’re
Looking straight into my eyes. Even when I ask (never aloud)
I would never be allowed to ask.
Kiss (rewind) take them back,
your hands that stink (of smoke at the finger tips)
and if you won’t (of course, you won’t. You’ve no idea what they’ve done), then
Look at me (pause)
Not because those (tiny italic) words tell (demand) you to
Or because there is no one louder to (steal) draw your (blurred) focus
Push your palm to my freckles (like a copy of them will smudge there)
Because I am soft (push over)
Kiss (rewind) to a time before you.



photograph by Stuart Vivier

The Writers Manifesto


Noelle Currie

I have been writing short fiction and poetry for ten years. I recently completed the second of two novels that are currently unpublished. I was the winner of The Book Doctor’s Pitchapalooza in 2013 and recipient of the Gold Medal in poetry in the Tunxis Academic and Art Challenge in 2009. I submit poetry and short fiction pieces to the creative writing website weekly. I graduated from the University of Connecticut in 2013 with a degree in vocal performance. My second love is singing opera.

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