I don’t know how many times

I’ve circled your block looking for clues:

lights on, cars in the parking lot,

the dark form crossing the window.

 

I circle your block, look for clues:

the illumination of curtains,

shadows pass your window,

television blinks like a candle.

 

Your curtains glow like a neon sign.

How many times have I sobbed in my car

while your television flickers?

Pound the steering wheel and scream?

 

How many times will I sob in my car

for the baby I lost?

I beat the wheel, scream

outside your apartment building

 

night after night for the baby I lost.

You have no idea I circle

your apartment building.

You are inside,

 

no idea I’m driving around the block

raging in the womb of my car.

You’re inside with her,

curtains cracked, lights winking

 

I rage in the womb of my car,

finally park, get out.

Your curtains parted enough.

Window twinkles.

 

I get out of the car, walk toward the window.

Light on, car in the parking lot,

window winking at me—

I don’t know how many times.

 

 

Joy Beshears holds a BA from Salem College and an MFA in Creative Writing from Queens University of Charlotte. Her poetry has appeared in various journals and anthologies including Surreal South, Main Street Rag, BREVITY, Southern Gothic Online, R-KV-R-Y Quarterly, Poet’s Canvas, THRIFT, In the Yard: A Poetry Anthology, Mountain Time, and Caesura. Her poem, “Rapture” was chosen by Kathryn Stripling Byer as Honorable Mention in the 2006 NC State Poetry Contest.