What Happened That Night
Alekseychuk, Cinderella's Shoe
As he was packing to leave me,
I threw my nightgown
on the passenger seat of his car.
I slipped it off, like a nylon shadow,
my pale skin liberated, illuminated
in the moonlight, like a satellite
of a satellite, which is how
I was starting to feel, myself a body
visible only by reflected light, his shape
a shadow moving in and out of sight
behind the blinds, the backbeat of drawers
and doors banging, hangerís liquid
slides a music playing as I waited
in the darkness. Let him leaveó
Iíd had it with him anyway, his sullen
moods, his unreasonable demands.
He told me he never wanted to see me
again. Well, heíd see me, all right,
heíd see me. Iíd like to see him find
a way not to see me. Iíll be the moon.