SPOTLIGHT: A Rondeau and a Rondel by Anna Evans

Tea Ceremonies

       for MP

We drink our tea and leave unsaid
the hungry words which once misled
our friendship. Nowadays we weigh
each phrase’s power to betray;
you tell me of a book you’ve read.

Your lips press kisses in my head;
your fingers tremble as you shred
the crumpled tag from your Earl Grey;
we drink our tea.

I want to slake our thirsts in bed,
be steeped in you; I break the thread
of what I’d been about to say.
We lock eyes over china, sway
an instant in silk sheets; instead
we drink our tea.

Originally appeared in The Formalist



Indian Summer Rondel

The leaves aren’t falling this September.
Truth’s at least as odd as fiction;
nature reels in contradictions—
snow in June, a warm December.

All old people can remember
times the sky defied prediction.
The leaves aren’t falling this September.
Truth’s at least as odd as fiction.

If you’re human, you’re a member
of a race with an addiction
to routine. A source of friction
in the months before November—
the leaves aren’t falling. This September,
truth’s at least as odd as fiction.



Anna Evans’ poems have appeared in the Harvard Review, Atlanta Review, Rattle, and Measure. She gained her MFA from Bennington College, and is the Editor of the Raintown Review. Her chapbooks Swimming and Selected Sonnets are available from Maverick Duck Press.