Poetry - Issue 20 | May 2014

Two Poems by Anna Weaver


unshared thoughts traveling alone

What’s that what’s that what 

do they call that what is he doing where

am I is that a hooker is that safe 
to drink
how much should I tip is this
the right street gate building door what
did she say what did she mean
am I underdressed?

Oh god, it’s so big small elegant

filthy wet bright hazy hot!

Is this normal did I offend 
them
am I in the right line what’s 
the word
for please thank you where 
is the bathroom
is that supposed 
to be a toilet what does that
button do 
should I push it and find out?


When’s my next flight ferry subway
bus ride how 
long to the airport marina
underground 
taxi queue from here how much 

is that in dollars am I supposed to barter
will 
this cab driver cheat me kidnap me resent me

say anything besides where to, miss?

What day is it again what time 
back home
where everyone who loves 
me is sleeping
will they like their souvenirs?

I think I could live here I can’t wait
to get home 
can’t wait to come back bring
my children 
sister lover someone to help carry back
all these questions.

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About the author

Raised in Oklahoma, Anna Weaver has yet to find a more satisfying sky or a better sunset on three continents. Not that she’d admit it if she had. Last summer she crossed the South China Sea four times between Singapore, Manila, Macau, and Jakarta. A frequent reader at local open mics, she has performed in Atlanta, Chicago, Nashville, and Raleigh. Her poems have been published in Star*Line, Utter, Wild Goose Poetry Review, and elsewhere, and she has twice been translated into Polish. She lives in North Carolina with her two daughters and keeps track of all this here.

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