Yvonne Strumecki

To Watch Her Lips

She prefers reds,
both in wine and lips,
the cherried variations
staining my thoughts,
as though the puckered print
she leaves behind on her
glass is inerasable.

I pick up the stem
she drank from, knowing
the scarlet imprint on its rim
will soon be washed away;
reminding me of our inevitable 
parting of ways, not the 
parting of lips which I could 
dream of, had I the courage 
to say so.

But my lips stay closed,
protecting those few moments I can
steal without her knowing;
thinking of rubies and fire trucks,
strawberries and flame,
forever in my mind
a stop sign.

Walk Me Away

I’ve never worn a pair of fuck-me-heels,
those three inch spikes that whores or
desperate women wear. The wanting
glances that travel - screaming sexy
from the ground up. I need just one pair 
to take the plaintive part of me 
away, one swaying step at a time.

If only my wish could walk me away,
straight-spined from masculine temptations
that tear away the truth of me, how easily 
I let them justify their use of my body;
hands lingering too long and too low.

The shoes I own are sneakers; old 
enough I should toss in the trash, but can’t
because these are the soles that do me 
some good; keeping my pace, the steady climb
on the road toward a virtue which I can only dream.


Yvonne Strumecki is a singer and writer living in New York City. Her poetry has appeared in Fearless Books’ anthology “Touching: Poems of Love, Longing, and Desire” and Another Chicago Magazine’s Issue 50, Vol 2. She has also toured nationally as a singer. You can find out more by visiting www.yvonnestrumecki.com.