scott hightower

Identity Thief

She has

all of the cards

all of the numbers

a scheme for getting rich

a gold compact,

cracked, and

her own reflection.

She is everything

I have never been

mistress, wife, mother

thief.  She is nothing

like me:  drinks

tequila shots

with lime, favors

fishnet tights,

four inch spikes,

smoky bars,

and sweet perfume.

When she purses

her bruised lips

and whispers my name

into your ear

how will you know

she is not me?

My double,

my doppelganger

she is out there

she is free.

Waiting for the Diver

For Nancy

I imagine you diving:  your long hair like kelp

in the blue-green water, your body weightless,

floating above the anemone. What do you find

in the ocean that we never found on the beach

together, among the varnished pastels

of sea shells we gathered to listen to

on the long drive home? Now, I'm the smaller

sister. You've outgrown my old clothes

and childhood taunts at you, dug into the sand, afraid

of the undertow's insistent pull on us.

david corcoran