The Art of Disappearing: Two Poems by Patricia Russo

Extended Stay: Wellness Check

He always wore a tie
and never spoke to anyone
except to say, It’s a beautiful day.

In his room, a couple of dozen envelopes
stamped Official Legal Notice
in red

and empty packs
of American Spirit cigarettes.

After they forced the door, they asked
if he had any local friends
any places he used to hang out

And all I could say
was that he would sit
on the front steps to smoke

and once, soon after he arrived
he told me that he had seen Poseidon
on the street, among the crowd

so they shook their heads
and left

but despite the mess he left behind
it seemed to me
that he had made a clean escape.

Flicker

Billy said it was pointless
to have a memorial service
because she hadn’t died
but had traveled in time
to a year before any of us were born
and though we wouldn’t see her again
she was alive in the past.

How that was any different
from a person who did die
we didn’t quite grasp
so while we believed him
we had a memorial anyway
while Billy waited outside
playing with his lighter
flicking the flame into life
and extinguishing it
for hours
even after it started to rain.

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Author: Patricia Russo's work has appeared in One Art, Identity Theory, Michigan City Review, Verity La, and Inkhorn Review.

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