Mom and I star the same parts,
Persephone colding with Pluto,
the senses mingling.
I stand by the kitchen window
unbreaking promises, steam rising
from the metal sink, slivers
collecting in the stopper.
Another broken ornament— gold
and magenta unburdened on the
wood floor. We don’t agree
on much about truth,
but we agree the emotion lies in
that stream–though it moves,
dark, dark, beneath the never
ending shadows.
Lisa Kouroupis
Lisa Kouroupis’s work has been published or is forthcoming in West Trade Review, Funicular Review, Lavender Review, and Arboreal Literary Magazine, and was nominated for a 2024 Best of the Net award. She is pursuing her MFA in poetry at the University of Montana, and serves as the Poetry Editor at CutBank Literary Magazine. Originally from Maryland, she spent formative time in Chicago before moving to Missoula with her cat, Morty.
