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Native New Yorker LindaAnn LoSchiavo, who is completing her 2nd documentary film on Texas Guinan, enjoys writing fiction, poems, plays, and essays set in the Big Apple. 

Poetry                                                                                                                                           By LindaAnn LoSchiavo

Spring Blooms in Brooklyn 


Wind-skinned March, dragon-clawed, maintains its rein
With spiteful shifts of bitter blasts like slaps,
Pretending winter’s staying to raid joints,
Crack knees like kindling, or detour lovers
Indoors while it goes whistling past the Ides — —
Until the vernal equinox when Sun
Caresses the equator to arouse
Earth, singling out his former partner (cold
At first, hard-crusted), knowing he’s approached
Before and, when she warms, spring’s miracles
Are easy, marking marriage with day-night
Equals, short-changing lovers of covers
Of darkness, as a slow unfolding light
Stretches, helps April find all that was lost.

Memories of Necking at Plum Beach

My resident love asks about my first — —
All that went on within, unswerving truth 
About my spin in love's synthetic spell 
That made me shake virginity lint-free 
Forever from my panties. His heart hurts, 
Ineligible for relief, till told.

It's what remains a secret: that does it.
The undefinable, unnameable
Is bleeding a whole new world. His mind stays up 
Unfolding, seeing if I left some holes.

Why should I teach old memories to talk? 
Because two teens were sticky? Or because 
He has stuck blame to it?   My genesis,
My turn in love's old soft machine, swept me 
Along like a river bound for other beds, 
Sinking those who insist on wringing out 
Interpretations from originals — — 
Two youngsters who no longer would exist.

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