Morning’s breath snakes down my craned neck, a crisp swirl of whispers ashen and remnant cloud and coagulate alongside my clavicle, the hush of early-today sticky warm and sickly sweet with dream ramblings that wriggled between unbrushed teeth— their stories dig cavities, soil crowns. I feel sunrise gossip build cumulus clouds under my chin […]
Read more...(a blackout poem) I stayed home working against progress, I said nothing. I expect shaking, tightening my veiny hands. Fight back. The spine I probably didn’t even have. Release. Years I had opportunities to learn, desire. Building muscle alone. I pressed play. It doesn’t compete anymore. Shrink. […]
Read more...My front lawn has ghost tracks— toeprint indents from phantom feet and limbs, a remembrance— Ding-dong ditched and vanished in poltergeist play, veered diagonal from front door to cul-de-sac, off the pathway we tiled for propper disappearing acts. A presence left his impression in landscaped lines. A street-facing spirit, a front garden ghoul. […]
Read more...Lives I watch from this twenty-second story are yoga mats on adjacent rooftops, sprawled, sweat-drenched and pollen-dusted 8 AM Thursday flow to a playlist of Brooklyn traffic— her body elastic, a figurine from where I peer, stretching into a workday morning a bridge, a salutation. From this twenty-second story, limbs rush to catch trains […]
Read more...My mother’s name resides curbside somewhere between the streets of 1960s Tel Aviv. Its childhood coo a sweet sound, its short legs swinging playful above Rematachayal sidewalks, perched on Aba’s porch chair pulled closed to the street to watch the children play and wave to neighbors strolling from Shul to Shabbat— Ednale. […]
Read more...by Edna Levy Green, translated by Talia Green My name, a gift from my birth by parents who blessed its life— My name, that I’ve grown into and grown with, my name in my hands. My name, loved by those who loved me and I deserted, the name I let slip from my hands. […]
Read more...What art can we make from our wreckage, Our astringent rubble? Pebbles have rattled loose from our ceiling under battering from an overhead storm— they precipitate in shapes, hail in abstract form, configure in sharp lines on our living room floor. Debris, dislodged from our rooftop and settled again at our feet in off-octagons. Bewitching […]
Read more...Think of the constellations— Yankee candles and their geometrics. Their flickers at funny angles, too removed from our mouths to be hampered by our giggling. Our spit doesn’t go that far. Think of the constellations— Don’t think of the stars, think of the sew lines between them. Sweater threads, loose and frayed, but looping […]
Read more...Are you desolate or free, shedding parts of yourself? Clutching your canopy until its vibrancy dulled into sleepy amber, until its luscious frame withered to papyrus scraps, until its grip fatigued, and, to your canopy, the ground looked so wistful, heaps of its counterparts huddled together in rest. Who let go first, you or […]
Read more...Do you also stumble over sidewalk cracks? Hopscotch along skewed pathways, diagonal lines— your heel grazing raised tree roots, your toes curling over indents of pebbles, groundwork lodging into your sneaker soles? Do you also mind your steps, teeter at stop signs? Do you carry with you a crown of leaves when you come back […]
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