Danielle Susi

Like New Nickels

I saw the inside of a heart today, sliced open
             like Christmas dinner. My wound
                         in anatomy class. I lost

the not-love-of-my-life to a woman
             from Phoenix. I knew nothing
                         about either of them, except

that his dark hair got me lost
             and his eyes were compasses
                         bright like new nickels. And

three years later I see a dinner,
             several dinners as each of
                         those nickel eyes watch me

eat. And as I pull a salad to my lips
             and teeth those new nickels are
                         pockets-full, and jingle

against other loose change. At once
             I am the watcher, my dull copper eyes
                         remembering five-cent gazes.



--
Danielle Susi is an MFA student at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Pink Pangea, Airplane Reading, Vagabond City, Squawk Back, Decades Review, The Milo Review, and elsewhere. She is the recipient of a writer’s grant and residency from the Vermont Studio Center.