Lines Written in an Empty Room

Tell me about that night in November when we sat huddled by the James River 
and watched people jump into the water. 
How it was dark, and no one could see, the gulls diving into the river 
before soaring away, dissipating into the night.  
We are not like the moon, whose presence we expect each night, 
we are more like a theatre where we act our best parts, 
you and I. We rolled out our mats so we could lie together, and the night 
sky was a violet tapestry pricked with stars. 
Now, look at the flower’s stillness  
in its glass of water. That means you’re alone, that means 
you’re a memory, that nobody will cause air to buffet its petals.  

—after Richard Siken 

ALEXANDER LAZARUS WOLFF

Alexander Lazarus Wolff is a student at the College of William & Mary. His work has been published in The Best American Poetry online, The Citron Review, Black Fox Literary Magazine, South Florida Poetry Journal, North Dakota Quarterly, Serotonin, and elsewhere. He is a poetry editor for The Plentitudes. You can find him at www.alexanderlazaruswolff.com.