TERESE SVOBODA

Love Light (Schadenfreude)

The tomato sauce upsets twice,
almost suffocating his small self,

that much sauce—but no
blood, no, the dream’s resistant,

not a single lip’s
bitten for the taste.

Certainly I taste
the granular wave of sauce

and inhale and cough
then wipe his face with my skirt

which could be skin the way
I pull it from my hips.

I have to undress him, the groceries
cold in their cans,

the red pouring out meaning,
canceling light so cold

you groan,  almost
inside me. I open

my eyes, the curtain glowing
across the alley as red as

flame—grief
can be that strong.  

   Contributor’s notes
   Motion Makes Us Cough
   Selected Imagery Based on Physical Gesture
   Control C

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