Published Humanitas, Volume VII, No. 2, 1994


Hours change hands
Like small denominations. I can’t sleep and tell

Myself time is money. With me, a man
Has the wherewithal

To wake. We spend the night With nothing to show for it.

—Heidy Anne Steidlmayer


Reluctant to push your body Perforce with lust
(Which was the last to go)
Now wanting, you do, somewhat Clumsy like the first time.

Now there’s no taking back
Her abandon, which, like a presence pulls You side to side like strangers

Trying to get by, where no matter where You turn you are in the way
And you cannot not get past.

—Heidy Anne Steidlmayer

Romantic Irony

I know that stars turn more the less they turn.

I’ve seen the Milky Way move clockwise, make galactic years lean West.

How dare you lie
to a clear-armed woman across her clouded breast.

Now I hate you less the more I turn

to milk and the milk turns.

—Heidy Anne Steidlmayer