Category: Entertainment
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Trapped In Line
She had no voice of her own to lick the woundsof her offspring—sprung off and over the cliff.One by one, like lemmings, they follow in line behind a leader who found their place behindsomeone else who learned as much as anyonehow to play a game from those who came before. And someone else before that,…
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Poet’s Prayer
Father, Son, Holy Spirit Not kneeling in a church pewreciting catechism rote, a lastminute plea, genie lamp wishupon a star desire nor beggingfor winning lottery numbers,just here this day to say thankyou for continuing to bless mein spite of my transgressions. I confess I attended service buttwice this past year, probablylike most Catholics, Easter andChristmas,…
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smoke
You smell like smokeIt was cruel and trueA club in her handI was wrecked, disjointed It was cruel and trueThere was aftermathI was wrecked, disjointedI’m sure I do There was aftermathI decided to stayI’m sure I doTo stand in the burning I decided to stayA club in her handTo stand in the burningI smell like…
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in my mother’s drawer
In My Mother’s DrawerI found aerial photosThat mapped meOut From afar.From above.Un-Touching. Translated from Hebrew by Natalie Feinstein
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leave all valuables
Upon arrival all lips were collected. You Cannot Enter This Country With Your Lips They say. A woman asks why? They take her child and put it in a cell with other children faceless nameless lipless kids why? why? They take her warm lips Do Not Ask Why. In a line the Bodies move to…
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Morta
Gilded with petrification Many lifecycles of man & beast anoxic lain Drainage disinterred From millennia-locked marshland sump As story out of sculptor’s block revealed This field of posts Marks where a village clung Encircling lakeshore’s cradling womb The precious pull of water These stilted pillars raised Life from lifegiver’s mortal grasp That finally would engulf…
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Holding Myself Back
Now that I’m not holding myself back, what else are my hands capable of? If I ever hate myself, it’s because others taught me. I know how to feel wrong, but I can barely give a reason. Justification is for everyone else but me. I’m 30 & love myself enough not to starve. I stay…
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Durmitor
We’re driving Sprawling hills They roll and roll A tiny street Twists and turns But also Wildflowers They’re everywhere. He and I Blue sky and Paintbrush clouds “Ireland,” we call it We’re somewhere else Entirely Somewhere far away From ourselves We hold hands A song plays (I’ve chosen it) Makes us ponder. Our time together…
