Millefoglie
When you say
handsome
in another language, I
can’t respond. I
don’t know the word.
Your phrase a plate
of one thousand
leaves. The chapel
where great
great grand
parents were bound.
Carnaval, the great limestone
hills marrying periwinkle
alleyways and antique
arcades, and our ephebe,
tasteful, nude. Cinched,
his silly belly yellow
sandcastle and the shell pink
gateway breathes.
John B. Oldenborg (he/him) called Tallahassee home. He recently graduated from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas with an M.F.A. in creative writing. Some of his poems appear or are forthcoming in Rougarou, Gone Lawn, Grotto, Hobart, MASKS, and elsewhere online.