the wax paper

HOOK

Hilary Sideris


What 

is this bent 


device 

that tows us 


toward 

each other,


sickle meant 

to dig in, 


drag, suspend, 

too catchy 


tune we hate

but hum? 

FLAKE

Downy little

piece of fluff,


he thought

of his last fling, 


his sweet white 

fish, his breakfast 


dish, fresh coat

of paint. What 


part of love is 

fear of breaking 


off? Of being 

flicked away?  

ANTIQUES ROAD SHOW


Filing my e-form, 

I bypass Alabama, Arkansas,


scroll down, wincing in wrist 

pain to New York. I howl 


my nasal midwest Wow

the cuckoo clock worth more 


than my credulity. Awesome.

At least my streets are deep 


in chanters, circles drawn

around that crossed-out,


porcine face. At least 

I don’t live there.



Hilary Sideris has recently published poems in Flock, The Lake, Rhino, and Salamander. She is the author of Most Likely to Die (Poets Wear Prada 2014) and The Inclination to Make Waves (Big Wonderful 2016). A new collection, Un Amore Veloce, will be published by Kelsay Books in 2019. Her website is hilarysiderispoetry.com