Author: Yael Veitz
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Dust Pneumonia, 1937
When my brother died, I stuffed his shoes with newspaper to make them fit I think of him when I wear them His lungs, always weak on the baseball field Couldn’t take it. They filled up like flour sacks OklahomaTexasKansasColorado Topsoil turned turgid all over the plains Invading him We played soldiers…
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Tinghir
You were born in the mellah Made your feet leather on hot rocks made way for boys with donkeys ever the scrambler Your mother didn’t know you much seventh of twelve, always dashing off. While she did someone else’s washing, you and your twin brother switched places on a dare, then back again “Do…
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Paper House
I hide in a paper housein spaces where I need not speak.I take up pencil, notebook,write myself a rowdy place–hundred-story bunk beds; mermaids in the fish tank, dragons in the yard. Other books nourish mine–lend me their rhythms, their characters,teach me silent conversation, sprint with me through enchanted forests. I bloom purple, tape my binding,put…