April Ossmann


I never stopped to consider
its less illicit pleasures:
its syllables tumbling so readily
off the tongue, the tongue
slapping lightly, repeatedly,
the roof of the mouth, the mouth
left open, as if with expectation,
or in surprise, or song—this solo
which leaves you alone,
holding the final note.

April Ossmann
Infidelity first appeared in The Spoon River Poetry Review, Vol. XXVII, No.2, Fall 2002.