Poetry - Issue 22 | April 2015

Edinburgh, Alone

by Stephanie

Edinburgh, Alone

You go home with a stranger, Michele from Milan.
Using the moonlight from his ceiling window,
He traces a bruise on your hip bone,
Which glows like a flounder on the ocean floor.

In the morning, before you climb Arthur’s Seat,
He makes you an espresso
And points out the merging sea and sky;
The same gale grey.

Why did you come here alone, in the dead of winter—
Only to end up surrounded by a stranger’s cold china?
On top of Arthur’s Seat,
You barely balance against the wind.

About the author

Stephanie Papa is a writer, editor and teacher currently working towards an MFA in Poetry in Paris, France. Spontaneous travel keeps her curious. Her most recent love affair is with Brazil. Her work has been published in Cleaver Magazine, Four Chambers Press, great weather for media, and Paris/Atlantic.

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