I was levitating, pajama party style,
a group of friends with four fingers each
lifting me. I was leaving my job,
so Sally made margaritas. People gave gifts;
an autographed banana, a coffee mug
with testicles, a squirt gun full of tequila.
The setting sun gave off a pumpkin glow.
We danced and smoked and just as someone snapped
a picture of Christopher in a wig,
Patrick’s car dove off a road in Kentucky.
The fender bent like a river around a tree.
Metal heaved, crimped, buckled
until the windshield gave in to the pressure
and his cheekbone cracked the dash.
I loosed the slush from the side of my glass,
watched Bob pop out of the bathroom
in Sally’s robe, dive on top of Doug
and hump him like a bitch in heat.
Cathy Carlisi’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in; Prairie Schooner, Southern Poetry Review, The Mid-American Review, The Midwest Quarterly, The Atlanta Review, The Laurel Review, The Sycamore Review, West Branch, The Greensboro Review and others. Cathy is the Chief Creative Officer at BrightHouse, a consultancy in Atlanta.