Forget about taxes: it’s a huge day for poetry.

First off, it’s Tuesday, so I’ve got my weekly poem up on 5×500. This one’s called “Dough,” and it’s about baking. Check it out.

Next, I wrote an Indie Press Spotlight on Red Hen, my new favorite publisher, for LitReactor. It’s the first one of these I’ve done—I’m used to reviewing books, not businesses—so go easy on me.

Finally, there’s the day’s National Poetry Month poem, of course. Since I’ve already talked up Red Hen quite a bit, I figured I’d give you something from one of my favorite recent Red Hen poetry collections, The Love Project: A Marriage Made in Poetry, which is a dual collection by husband and wife poets Austin Straus and Wanda Coleman. It’s a beautiful collection, with half of the book written by each (mostly about the other). It was really cool to see both halves of their marriage presented together poetically like that.

Unfortunately, Wanda passed away recently, so I wanted to honor her great work as a poet by including one of my favorites from her half of the collection. The book is a really honest portrait of their marriage, sex, anger, and frustrations included, but to me that only made the innocently sweet ones like this even sweeter.

Her sister told me recently at one of Austin's readings that Wanda had and loved Broetry, which was an incredible honor to hear.

I wish I could have known you, Wanda. Rest easy.

He Takes Her to the Movies by Wanda Coleman

at the walk-in concession counter his
arms surround and embrace. she jumps
unaccustomed to public displays of tenderness
it takes a moment to unwind
into his fold

he prefers chocolate to popcorn
she reminisces about drive-ins

revivals turn him on as do existential
European visions or comedies
with cultural references to the Catskills
or Brooklyn. she’s keen on film noir of
the 40s and 50s—anything to escape
her umber skin for an hour or two

she remembers when they cost fifty cents
he remembers when they cost a nickel

sometimes one asks the other
“did i see that with you?”

in the theatre’s dark she is
now and then startled by slight muffled
sniffles mid-scene. the glow from
the silver screen illuminates
his tears

after the movies
they hold hands


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