Autumn Sky Poetry . . . Number 20 . . .
 

Hysteria (two)

     by Lucia Stacey



Please don't smile, she said. Please don't wear that navy V-neck because I can't concentrate when you do, watching the soft muscles of your neck contract with every breath, the hint of your clavicle under that cashmere curtain. Please don't laugh, she said, because I can't focus on anything but the way your eyebrows twitch and the way you gently bite your bottom lip as your laughter subsides. Please don't move, even a little, she said, because if you do, and the sun bounces off you, illuminating the sheen of your smooth, dirty blonde hair, I'll remember the way it feels against my fingers, my breasts, my thighs. Please don't look up at me, she said, because even though your eyes are a little too sunken in their sockets, and your eyebrows have a little too much arch for a man, I know the shine of those eyes, and if I see them I won't be able to forget them, again.










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Lucia Stacey is a sophomore at Davidson College in North Carolina. As a staff writer in the Arts & Living Section of the college newspaper, The Davidsonian, she is responsible for reporting events on campus that bring the community together. She also writes for her campus literary magazine, Libertas, and is a tutor at Davidson College's Writing Center. In the summer of 2010, she interned at Jacob's Ladder Neurodevelopmental Center in Roswell, GA where she wrote a monthly newsletter for companies and universities discussing the benefits of neurodevelopmental therapy in children with autism and cerebral palsy.


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© 2011 Lucia Stacey