Three Poems by Sonya Schneider

Desire of the Mind

For him, I ate the eye
of the Hamachi kama
in a little hole in the wall
in Palo Alto. We were young
and almost in love. He said
it was good luck to eat it.
I don’t believe in luck.
But the body! Oh, I believe
in the body. And desire
of the mind.
And since eyes
cradle the brain
in their knowing,
I savored the gooey
outer layer on my tongue
before swallowing
it whole.

*

Those Late-Night Drives

When they fought, when he’d slammed one too many doors
and called her by her maiden name, each vowel a dagger

thrown, my mother would grab her keys and drive away.
Sometimes, she took me with her, and we’d speed in silence

to where the highway burned infinity. It never seemed pure,
her anger, or sometimes, it seemed so pure it might melt

the leather skin off the steering wheel. I was never sure
when we’d return, or if more doors would slam, or if love

might lead them stumbling toward the bedroom.
If I hadn’t known those late-night drives, would I still

have chosen you? That old photograph with your thumbs
pointed skyward, those bright brown eyes looking hopefully

into the camera, despite your parents’ messy divorce.
Even when I’ve driven away, I long to come back to you.

*

Washing My Daughter’s Bra

Mom used to leave her bras swimming
in soapy water, their dark dyes turning
the water black. Then she’d sling
their thick straps onto the neck
of a plastic hanger and let them dry
in the sun. Once, in Italy, I saw a woman
hanging bras from her balcony, her private
world aired like bright, lacy flags.
She never noticed me below,
backpack heavy, my own bra smelling
of sweat and oil. My breasts were young
and firm, easy to carry and, when the time
was right, unveil. But holding my daughter’s bra
now in my hands, I remember
that it wasn’t just my lingerie I ignored.
I left my clothes strewn across my dorm room,
slept on unwashed sheets, dreaming of a freedom
I did not yet know how to manage.
Only after years lying in the low grasses
of neglect, did I learn how to care for myself.
Is this to be her fate, too?
For now, I scrub the supple under cups,
rinse until the water runs clean.
Then I unlatch the delicate hook and eye
and lay the piece flat, careful not to tug
the small silver heart sewn in the center.

*

Sonya Schneider’s poems have appeared in Rattle, The Penn Review, Potomac Review, Rust & Moth, Salamander, Moon City Review, ONE ART, Raleigh Review, SWWIM, Tar River Poetry and The Tusculum Review, among others. Her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and has placed in the Patricia Cleary Miller Award and the Laux & Millar Prize. A graduate of Stanford and Pacific University’s MFA in Poetry, she lives in Seattle with her family.