New Poetry from Shakira Croce

The Passenger

Struggling to shut the overhead
compartment, my sundress conceals the
future woman’s body
that pushes against mine slowly
crushing my insides.
Feet strike the wall
once scraped for fragments.
The technician crumpled the photo
as soon as it was rendered
clutching it in her fist, apologizing
for being so close to her due date.
Beside me the tourist flips
between the Old Testament and Friends
as her reusable Target bag claws at my forearm.
Anticipating the next kick and scrolling,
I catch myself again
weighing the odds of survival
at this point in development.
Outside drops meet and merge,
streaming across the pane.
Hitting turbulence, the passenger inside me
shifts, rooting for a space to grow
where others are no longer
even the beginning of bones.

 

By Way of Introduction

I am not a people person
or at least that’s what I’ve been told.

And I believe it may be true.
The evidence is there.

I forget birth-
dates, converging

as more drop and cycle
into vapor through my mind.

Names too gust from memory
as quickly as a hand is offered

and withdrawn.
Despite all this, I’ve proven […]


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Sleep Training

Now no more cradling:
your first disappointment?
It’s time to learn coping mechanisms,
tricks to self-soothe.
A starling shoots through dawn
and lays an egg outside your window,
charting the destiny of mourning
doves preparing to hatch.
Now no more lifting you above the bars,
their purpose to protect.
I drop you down into the darkness
and hold my breath,
but the old floor shrieks,
and you’re howling, knowing I’m responsible.
Oh, baby how I wish
I could scoop you up and rock you forever.
But we can’t go on like this.
Now no more touching the small of your back,
feeling the whole of you in my palm.
The winged partners whistle between evergreens
busily cooing as they tuck rootlets
around thin shells.
I catch the eye of the mother, understand her
bleary focus on the feeding.
Specters reflected off the pane
pluck progressions of failed lullabies.
I stand in the doorway and watch […]


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Shakira Croce is a poet living in Lynbrook, New York. Her poetry collection, Leave It Raw (Finishing Line Press, 2020), has received critical acclaim by New Books Network, California State Poetry Society, Mom Egg Review, and others. Croce’s poetry has been published widely in literary magazines and journals, including the New Ohio Review, Pilgrimage Press, Shark Reef, and Permafrost Magazine. Shakira currently works as Director of Communications and Public Relations at Amida Care, New York’s largest Special Needs Health Plan supporting underserved populations living with HIV and trans individuals.

“The Passenger” and “Sleep Training” originally appeared in Bards Annual 2024 and Poetry Downtown 2024, respectively.