Two Poems

by J.R. Solonche


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​Florida

It was the wrong Miami.
It was the one without the beach.

It was the one without the cemetery with your aunt’s grave.
It rained so hard, the street became a river.

When the sun came out, we drove to the right Miami.
It was the one with the beach.

It was the one with the cemetery with your aunt’s grave.
It rained so hard, the water came in through the window of the room.

That night someone was in the pool.
She was nude.

Her body was slender and white.
“She looks like my aunt,” you said before going to bed.


Leaving the Doctor's Office, I Had

a conversation with the nurse about
Shakespeare. She’s from Ireland.
She took a Shakespeare course in
college there. She said King Lear
was her favorite play because it
reminded her of her own family.
I’m the youngest of five sisters, she
said. But in the play, Lear has three
daughters, not five, I said. I know.
My family is twice as bad. We have
two Gonerils and two Regans. But
one Cordelia just like in the play, I said.
Yes, I’m the youngest, I’m Cordelia,
she said. That means you’re the only
good one, I said. Yes, I am, but one
Goneril and one Regan are out of the
house, and my mom is still around,
unlike theirs, so she helps keep things
from getting too much out of control.
I think she’s a fool for staying so long.
I’ve been trying to convince her to leave
and take me with her. She’s a fool if she
stays, she said. Good luck, I said. Thanks,
she said. Good luck, I whispered while
pressing the “Down” button.


J.R. Solonche has been  nominated for the Eric Hoffer Book Award, twice for the National Book Award and three times for the Pulitzer Prize. He is the author of more than 50 books.

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