Nothing

Poetry by Cara Sennott

She puts on a dress that doesn’t belong to her
And curls her platinum hair to make it bounce,
And twirls across the dance floor
And watches her dress and her hair flow.
And the room (or maybe just he)
Can’t take eyes off of her, so she can’t stop spinning.

And she holds her liquor like a man,
And she thinks if she stops drinking he’ll stop looking.
He pours the Georgi freely into her open mouth
And his hands show her how impressed he is.

And he leads her gently and dips her toward the floor,
But when the song changes so does the dance.
And there’s hands and bodies and sweat,
And hips rocking, lips brushing, skin against skin.
The beat’s electronic and there’s no turning back.

It’s not until they’re the only ones
Left on the dance floor
That their lips finally meet.
And when the dance has died
They make their own song
Out of scratching fingernails
And murmured moans
And squeaking mattresses
And sweet nothings.

And he’s pulling the curls right out of her hair
As if this means nothing.


Cara Sennott is a New York City-based poet and recent graduate of both Hofstra University and Columbia Teachers College. This year, her poetry has been featured in Cicada Magazine, Light: A Journal of Photography & Poetry, and Into the Void Magazine. She is grateful and humbled to be part of the first edition of Capulet Mag!

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