A sliver of silver up in the sky
She flaunts her glow to fawning stars
A vain, curved needle hovering high:
The upholstery tool my grannie used
To jab me when I was bad
Like the time at the bistro
When all I wanted was fried eggs
And because the waiter smirked
She laughed in complicit derision
Which was worse than the needle.
First published in The Cortland Review
José Sotolongo was born in Cuba. His work has appeared in Atticus Review, The Cortland Review, The Southampton Review, Third Coast, and elsewhere. A second novel will be out in 2020. He lives with his husband in the Catskills of New York. More at sotolongo.net.