sea wife

The hotel room was decorated
to look like a ship. Take off your
clothes, he said. I started
with my shoes. Barefoot,
I was small beside him.
He told me: someday
you’ll have a husband. Touch
him like this. And I nodded,
so he knew I was learning.
In the bathroom mirror
I saw my face, blank
as a flower. That night,
I dreamed of nothing,
and no one dreamed of me.

nothing serious 

saw the evening through
the point of view of your palm

difficult to disagree
with the fingerprints on my face
silk dress          silk pillowcase
tulips in a big blue vase
my mouth painted
pink, shut




Nicola Maye Goldberg is the author NOTHING CAN HURT YOU. Her work has appeared in Joyland, Vogue, New York Tyrant and elsewhere. She teaches creative writing at Columbia University.