(An abnormal fear of being alone)
I wrote a poem about love that included the word monophobia.
I wrote a poem about love that made no mention of it.
I wrote a poem about love on a summer afternoon with the sun
filtering through the fronds just because I liked the word frond.
I wrote a poem about an affair with my salsa instructor,
which was a hybrid piece: part fiction part poetry.
I wrote a poem about a poet who wrote me a love poem.
This happened in a dream I wish I could still summon.
I am not a monophobe but sometimes I imagine I need
you. I imagine an alternate life where you are with me.
Unlike a true monophobe, I do not imagine you are with me
in the lavatory, though that would not be bad.
Maybe I will attempt a new poem in which you are with me
in the loo. We’ll take a bath. There will be soap bubbles
resembling fronds and you’ll read Keats aloud. I won’t be
too arthritic for salsa dancing and we’ll do a little of that too.
Riding the Bus Downtown
I went back to get my umbrella.
Love is a never-ending cup.
Everybody is on foot or underfoot.
Oh, how the fireflies light up the night.
Easy for me to say see you tomorrow.
So many sideways glances,
Valentines for the displaced.
If I could, I would shut your eyes.
My father loved Glenn Miller,
A fact no one but me now knows.
Friend, you cannot get off here.
Kelly Fordon’s work has appeared in The Kenyon Review (KRO), NPR’s This I Believe, The Florida Review, Flashquake, The Montreal Review, The Cleveland Review, The Windsor Review and various other journals. Her poetry chapbook, On The Street Where We Live won the 2011 Standing Rock Chapbook Contest and was published in February 2012. Her poetry chapbook, Tell Me When It Starts To Hurt was published by Kattywompus Press in May 2013. She received her MFA in creative writing from Queens University in Charlotte. www.kellyfordon.com