Two Poems by Ben Nardolilli

Staining the Canvas

Masques and spectacles ooze

from the cracks of light we all allow ourselves

once the sun burns down behind the bridges

Faces absorb the moon, the glare

bouncing off crowded amber counters in bars,

and the red and green of the intersections

It becomes their makeup, the cover

they wear on top of everything else,

as eyes and lips manage to lose a natural color

In cellars, hands turn into vines

or animals, depending on the choreography

assigned by the electricity dangling overhead

Every chandelier cultivates a garden

out of the shadows cast on the bare marble,

meanwhile lone bulbs reveal a rat on the plaster

Exurban Renewal

Scope and development: a lofty system

shuffles the streets trying to bring us into its blueprint heaven

Its strenuous attempts to reconcile us 

with the pillars of this plan throw us into constant infringements 

We want to stay behind, in the fog

of our natural home, lost in the unfolding scroll of adventures

No fates or gods reveal a helpful arrow,

a detour to serve as our destination out of these cul-de-sacs

There are only designers and developers,

happy to lead us into a wild reliquary among all their concrete 

Ben Nardolilli is currently an MFA candidate at Long Island University. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Door Is a Jar, Red Fez, Danse Macabre, The 22 Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, The Northampton Review, Slab, and The Minetta Review. Follow his publishing journey at mirrorsponge.blogspot.com.