Kimberly Campanello

I don’t know if you noticed

I don’t know if you noticed
but a cat has taken a bird
and left a struggle of feathers
on the porch

You know me
You don’t know me
You know me

You burn through the bottoms of 4 coffee pots
You serve your grandchildren
raw sausages on Sundays
When you’re hungry
you eat ice cream

You forgo shots of botulism in the face
to stop the twitching in your eye
You are still beautiful
Like a baby mouse
your bones and veins
breathe through your skin

You wear his sweater
with the sleeves pushed up
tuck fresh Kleenex
under the wristband
with discretion
You know him, this

Your eye twitches and hones
You don’t know me
You know me
You don’t know me
You know me
You me

Take me to the kitchen
Show me how to do this

Kimberly Campanello was born in Elkhart, Indiana. She now lives in Dublin. Her chapbook Spinning Cities was published by Wurm Press (2011). Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in several publications including The Stinging Fly, The Irish Left Review, The Cream City Review, Tears in the Fence, and nthposition. She is an editor of Rowboat, a new international magazine dedicated to poetry in translation.