Annie Rovzar (pronounced "rouser", like "trousers") lives and writes in San Francisco. She is currently applying to MFA programs when she's not working with high school students as a tutor and poetry workshop facilitator. She is excited that this is her first publication. 

Two Poems (January 20, 2011. Issue 24.)

RX

I went to the doctor.
He scrolled haiku
on the prescription pad—

“This is all you’ll need,”
he said, “A few good poems
and maybe, a pen.”

Seascape

We wanted poetry, so we fled to the beach, sat on a rock in the middle of the ocean,
listened to the rhythm of heavy waves pounding against our chests—we got all wet.

We laughed at the sea, threw back our heads and dared it to laugh back. We shivered with love, with too much life for our bodies. There were lightening bugs alive inside our bellies.

On days like these, the sun always set too quickly. We sang loud the whole way home. At night in my bed my body was stinging. (I think jellyfish heard me singing: shocked me electric, like a friend, into living.)