“my Polonius”

by Alina Stefanescu

Haunts himself.

Haunts his mother, his pals, the stained stage, the beer bottle fallen in the aisle,

and my view of the sky

from the lake's surface, two arms 

extended in flails like angel 

limbs on snow—or whatever this is

as melting continues

one could drown

without knowing it happened.

Be the eternal tragedy

or the inconceivable consequence

who haunts the accident.

after Philip Fried

Alina Stefanescu was born in Romania and lives in Birmingham, Alabama with her partner and several intense mammals. Recent books include a creative nonfiction chapbook, Ribald (Bull City Press Inch Series, Nov. 2020) and Dor, which won the Wandering Aengus Press Prize (September, 2021). Her debut fiction collection, Every Mask I Tried On, won the Brighthorse Books Prize (April 2018). Alina's poems, essays, and fiction can be found in Prairie Schooner, North American Review, World Literature Today, Pleiades, Poetry, BOMB, Crab Creek Review, and others. She serves as poetry editor for several journals, reviewer and critic for others, and Co-Director of PEN America's Birmingham Chapter. She is currently working on a novel-like creature. More online at www.alinastefanescuwriter.com.