Miceala Morano

The Kuleshov Effect

Here, the truth: I’m nothing
without the aftermath. You,
tracing the atlas of my palms,
each river looping back
to its origin like blood to the heart,
like truth: you pull the weight
from my shoulders. You,
your hand brushing my back
as if playing the piano. As if
I am your favorite song. Hush,
now whisper. Dear pianissimo,
they’ll never find us here.
When I wake, I’ll wait for you
to leave the bed before I make it.
Darling, I must have made you up
in a dream. In its wake, an exhale
dashes you across the hardwood.
Now, the aftermath. In sequence
they’ll find me, then you. You
the evidence, the proof. Finally,
they find memory, a consequence
laid out across the divan. God,
how you look in this light.

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Miceala Morano is a writer whose work has been published or is forthcoming in Berkeley Fiction Review, Eunoia Review, Kissing Dynamite Poetry and Lumiere Review, among others. Find her on Twitter @micealamorano and at micealamorano.carrd.co.