Eratio Issue 17




Two Poems


by Frances Saux








how big the world seems until you find the place from which

     it isn’t. 

I know the terrace of a small café where if I order coffee in

     a bowl,

I suddenly see all of Paris.


from then on: go to the mall, I’ve been to every mall,

this sunset is yesterday’s, these cobblestones are all of Florence,


painted industrial brick is Pittsburgh,

house cat in window of Victorian is San Francisco,


should have put every place in a postcard,

sent Boston in the mail, kept every snowfall in Montreal,


London on my mantel, but oh well too late,

here I am now, driving home down every freeway.








I hate the birthday girl,

how older than me

she seems, how deserving

of presents, when we went

to the PARTY I looked through

the car glass at her projected

map of self, flattened across

small city, small ocean, small

road, hair blown over equator of eyes,

small lights, conquest for miles.










Frances Saux is a writer and student from San Francisco. 


                                               <  e·  >