Poetry By Meredith DePalma-Fernandez

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​When a night just feels like poetry


The silhouette of a teenage boy, 
vacuuming out 
the golden rectangle of light 
that is the entrance to the Piggly Wiggly. 
He might just get out of this town. 
Or he might not. 

I am the object 
of 
an old man’s dilapidated lust 
for smoking a cigarette 
alone. 
If only he knew what I’ve done, 
he’d be disgusted. 
Or worse, maybe not. 

The 14 bare legs of teenagers 
walking in the dark, 
catch my headlights like rabbit’s eyes. 
One of the girls screams, 
(though she isn’t hurt)
I have heard prey scream before. 
I don’t like it.

The sound of a hesitant violin 
played by a good Christian man’s son 
is somehow mine to hear 
through the open window. 

This town was made for summer, 
And everyone in it 
is holding the same 
false hope 
tonight. 
Spring, like birth, is violent, and it will be again. 

A hawk, flying in the fresh night, 
must be 
terribly 
hungry. 

In this swirling, in this, in all of this, 
there is still you
and your bright blue gaze which is usually lost 
in a haze, but not on a night 
that just feels like poetry. 




Meredith DePalma-Fernandez is an Illinois nurse whose poetry is informed by recovery, close observation, and the emotional lives hidden within everyday landscapes. She will celebrate five years in recovery this October. She enjoys spending time with her eight-year-old daughter, Sonia, who is her greatest friend and ally. “When a Night Just Feels Like Poetry” is her first published poem.
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