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Florence Weinberger-IV

These Pictures May Be Too….




Do I shut my eyes?

Do I shut off the TV?

I prepare an indifferent meal,


heart split like Kahlo’s Two Fridas,

when the woman touches

my hands.


She was speaking

to a man in a white shirt

who is facing the camera.


Though he seemed to be translating

what she is revealing to him,

their lips are out of synch.


She turns to me, says tell him where I have been,

how far I have walked

to get here.


I lay down my knife, my fork,

reach inside the screen,

brush the flies away.