IN MOONLIGHT • by Abriana Jette


We met in the back seat of his best friend’s car,
wintertime, the windows were fogged, he said
he’d let me breathe

then held his breath.
He said fuck a few times too many, in that thick
Jersey accent, in his faded blue jeans, and I said

I hated that word,
too many people say fuck instead of saying what
they really mean; said what he last said was an example.

He said fuck,
you’re right, then asked about my poetry. Tell me
what you write about were the exact words he said, and

let me tell you, when he first said my name, with
a cigarette lit half dangling between his lips, my blood
thinned slowly

then throbbed through
my veins. Something about the way paint stained his skin,
his fingers nubby and rough, I almost believed he was tough–

how far off.
That night, after he asked and in asking wanted everything, I said
nothing. The muffler hummed, a yellow light blinked

ahead. The windows unfogged, I uncrossed my arms, searched
for the moon between trees. I said, Distances, spring, my mother,
all the little things.




Abriana Jette is a poet and educator from Brooklyn, New York. She earned her M.F.A. in poetry from Boston University, and an M.A. in Creative Writing and English Literature from Hofstra University. Her work is forthcoming or has been published in The American Literary Review, Page Seventeen, and The Manila Envelope. She currently teaches at the College of Staten Island and the Borough of Manhattan Community College.

VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rating: 2.1/5 (23 votes cast)
IN MOONLIGHT • by Abriana Jette, 2.1 out of 5 based on 23 ratings
Posted on April 23, 2013 in Humour/Satire, Poems, Relationships
Bookmark and Share
  • Marion Clarke

    The guy’s reply when the narrator objects to his use of ‘fuck’ instead of saying what he really means is priceless!

    “He said fuck,
    you’re right, then asked about my poetry.”

    Love this. :)


  • Abriana

    Thanks, Marion — I truly appreciate you reading my work. Sometimes life, indeed, is more bountiful of creative moments than fiction. Warmly, Abriana

  • Johanna Miklos

    Definitely time for an upgrade in the male companion department. :)
    Well done – I can even smell this guy! The poem hits all the senses.

  • Christina

    I wasn’t a fan of this piece of work. I’ve read better from you.

« | Home | »