Green traffic light
Learning to Drive with My Lover
Who May Also Be My Mortal Enemy

by Bryanna Licciardi

You bark. I swerve.
I slam breaks, and you ask why
I’m stopped at a green light.
You hang your head from the window
and gasp for air, while I swear the dog
was suicidal. I almost miss our turn,
and you yell that your phone fell
behind the seat. I pull into our driveway,
and you put your hand behind me,
massaging into my neck your apology.
You move your hand to my thigh
and I’m all over you.
You scream something about
forgetting to put it in park,
and I love the way you look
when you’re terrified.

PHOTO: “Green light” by Destina, used by permission.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Bryanna Licciardi has (in no particular order) an MFA in poetry from Emerson College, an overweight yet incredibly agile cat, and a non-oxymoronic love of poetry and Stephen King. She is currently a doctoral candidate, studying literacy and reading disabilities. Visit to read about her past and forthcoming publications.