Your readiness for polishing,
pushing through facets and flaws.
Another ritual I’ve never seen. Steam geyser.
A smooth but unpredictable force
taking only seconds to brighten
the decision laid out on your hand.
My flaw, I think we are burnishing
our deep connection, a perfect fit.
A decade follows, sparkling, charming
me into not suspecting
you are polishing
the new diamond difference
Too Far to Stop
You are wearing kid gloves. Your princess cut
unable to gleam against twilight,
never within walking distance.
Infant gear steers your knees in the backseat.
Quick requests on the fly. A few minutes only.
Tell me I shirk my duty. Ask me to watch your baby.
Too far to stop. Even to drive by.
You balance some props between my teeth,
change gears willingly,
look at me only when necessary.
Nina Bannett’s poetry has appeared in journals such as Bellevue Literary Review, CALYX, and LUMINA. She has published a chapbook, Lithium Witness, and a full-length collection, These Acts of Water. She is Professor of English and department chairperson at New York City College of Technology, CUNY.