Poem by Janelle Rainer

Photography © Steve Warren

 

Stars and Planes

You pushed the screen from its frame
and slipped out into the dark

because you feel like you’re always
in the way of something.

You stare at the sky, try to decide
between stars and planes,

then try to decide
if you’re lonely, or just tired.

It’s not the night you imagined
when you put on that blue dress

hours before. But now,
you’re in the yard

with the stars and the planes
and you hear him inside—

you turn to see him at the window
and he’s looking right at you—

but then you remember: at night,
in a lit house, all a window does

is reflect what’s inside.
He can’t see you.

He’s just looking at himself.

 

Photography © Steve Warren
Photography © Steve Warren

 

Janelle Rainer is a 25-year-old poet, painter, and community college teacher living in Spokane, Washington. Her recent work has appeared in Harpur Palate, Din Magazine, Atticus Review, Revolution John, Emerge Literary Journal, HASH the Mag, POPLORISH, and elsewhere. She earned an MFA in Poetry from Pacific University in Forest Grove, Oregon.

Steve Warren’s interests are in the healing arts, poetry, photography, dance, the nutritional arts and much more. He is a peer specialist in the recovery movement.