3:45 PM

A wet parking lot
On a Christmas afternoon.
Women in rainjackets
Duck into their Mazdas, holding
Lattes. When they drive off,
Their taillights trace red streaks
In long puddles.





About the Author:
Catherine Simpson is a cellist who lives in Santa Barbara. She has been previously published in the Big River Poetry Review, Poydras Review, Splash of Red, Right Hand Pointing, Spectrum, Step Away Magazine, and Into the Teeth of the Wind.

Better Than the Movies

The livid tilt of a Hugo poem,
Where the stars are not distant
Winking points but throttling galactic
Aches, and the mind fills and fills
The blackness faster than space
Can fill itself, that breathlessness
That is better than praise or censure,
The verse that sends the heart against
The ribcage like a madman tearing at
The bars of his cell.




About the Author:
Catherine Simpson is a cellist from Santa Barbara. She has been previously published in Right Hand Pointing and Into the Teeth of the Wind.