M.J. Iuppa


Accidental
 
We arrived in the middle of the night, unable to see anything
on either side of us; only the crack of light coming from be-
neath the motel door. With luggage, we pushed our way in-
side, dropping everything; including our bodies, falling like
bowling pins onto the bed. You snapped off the light without
saying good night. We slept with held breath; waking the
next morning, facing each other, with one eye sprung open
to see mountains crowding all around us. We did not discuss
it. We dressed and went to the free continental breakfast:
crumbs on paper plates.



She Was Not a Walker
 
She borrowed her neighbor’s dog to walk along the canal.
The little pug was as nervous as she was to go anywhere;
so, together, they went along the bricked pathway— noses
down to appear occupied. She felt everyone’s eyes, thinking
of last night’s palm reader:  O dearie, you’re suffering. She was
writing a coming-of-age novel. Her wrists were a bit puffy
and her fingers ached. She was counting on a complicated
character. Suddenly, the pug stopped to sniff a rock sitting
on a tree stump in the middle of the path. She stared blankly,
not knowing which way to go.

M.J. Iuppa’s forthcoming fifth full length poetry collection is The Weight of Air from Kelsay Books, and she has also has a chapbook of 24 100-word stories, Rock. Paper. Scissors., from Foothills Publishing, both publishing in 2022. For the past 33 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Check out her blog: mjiuppa.blogspot.com for her musings on writing, sustainability & life’s stew.

 
 

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