Carmen Has No Umbrella but Went for Cigarettes Anyway. | Amy Soricelli

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Amy Soricelli has been in the field of career education and staffing for over 30 years.  A lifelong Bronx resident, she has been published in Grub Street, Camelsaloon, Versewrights, The Starving Artist, Picayune Press, Deadsnakes, Corvus review, Deadbeats, Cantos, Poetrybay, The Blue Hour Magazine, Empty Mirror, Turbulence magazine, Bloodsugar Poetry, Little Rose Magazine, The Caper Journal, CrossBronx, Long Island Quarterly, Blind Vigil Review, Isacoustic, Poetry Pacific, Underfoot, Picaroon Poetry, Vita Brevis, Voice of Eve, Uppagus, The Long-Islander, The Pangolin Review,  Plum Tree Tavern, Red Queen Literary Magazine, Terse Journal. Ethel5, Stirring Literary Collection, Thirty West, Remington Review, Allegro Poetry, 8 Poems, Anser Journal, THAT Literary Review, The Westchester Review, Nixes Mate Review,  Sparks of Calliope, Revolute, Lines + Stars, Ephemeral Elegies, Verdad, Verdad, The Lake, Literati Magazine,  Muddy River Poetry Review, And So Yeah,  Yellow Arrow Publishing, Montana Mouthful, Global Poemic, Silent Auctions Magazine,  One Hand Clapping, Trouvaille Review,  The Post Grad Journal, The Stillwater Review, The Spring City Journal, Cacti Fur,  Cobra Milk, Glimpse Poetry Magazine, Poetrywivenhoe, Pure Slush, Freshwater Literary Journal, as well as several anthologies. *Sail Me Away, (chapbook)  Dancing Girl Press, 6/2019.   Nominated by Billy Collins for Aspen Words Emerging Writer's Fellowship/2019, Nominated by Literati Magazine for "The Best of the Net" award  10/2020, and by Camelsaloon 6/13' recipient of  Grace C. Croff Memorial Award for Poetry, Herbert H. Lehman College, 1975


Last Wish

Don’t let me write poems about dying when I’m dying. 
Don’t allow me to shout up the air with lost thoughts,
tired best friends, stirred soup, antibiotics. 
Don’t let me cripple the last sun or pace the #6 train 
looking for a familiar face. 
I don’t recognize anyone, never did. 
Don’t make believe I’m not wasting away. 
I see the pictures, read the thoughts wrestled into memory -
I see the vacant stare forced into a smile. 
I’ll waste away. Let’s not point to it. 
Don’t let me wallow in the list of shit I never got to. 
It’s too long and weary and I never intended to anyway. 
When I am dying tell me why you loved me if you did. 
Then draw the curtains and slip away.