POEMS - Part 2

25

The art of tracking breaths before a year’s clock strikes: boxed inhales and exhales, even oxygenation, in one— fresh out of studies, a future grows hips two— early twenties, a crisp December sunrise three— a kindling candle, a new job in Manhattan four— a nest at a turning corner, retrospect, almost recycled hiccups, cough, halt, […]

You Shaded Me, a Month Ago

My favorite tree dyed itself amber overnight— where it found its overtone, from muddy roots or sooty sky, I couldn’t know— Its covert shift, so unforeseen, morphing in the span between my early rest to groggy rise, its yellow struck me paralyzed, its vibrancy sunkissed my eyes like it sponged daylight into its hand— […]

My Grandmother’s Prayer

In the tunnel of my lifeline סבתא שלי חיה, היא נושמת 1 her humming echoes, היא ממלאת את דמי בשיר 2, she drapes her prayers inside me כמו חופה של ברכתה like fresh linen clipped to a clothing line מושעה, מתנודדת בנשיפת אלוהים, 4 She swaddles me in her mother’s fabric המצעים שנתנו פעם לאמא […]

On Houses

I sit cross- legged with Kahlil Gibran’s poems sprawled open-faced on my lap, a prophet gazing skyward like there’s a sermon inscribed on my bedroom ceiling, like there’s a prayer to be read above us both, scrolls unroll beside a broken fan, blessed tiles or holy ghosts, there’s a message to bathe in, slick like […]

How Long Have I Been Doing This?

How long have I been doing this? Counted on my fingertips, no second lost, not one dismissed. They’re stored in some covert abyss and can’t be missed, they can’t resist, they coexist with zip-tied wrists and balled-up fists, these moments on my fingertips– today is on the waiting list, today’s a clear-cut plagiarist– when yesterday […]

The Elements

we made of marble our hips chiseled with amber morsels fossil resin translucent embossing our hues and metal fragments curve across our marmoreal build we made of honey cake and brown sugar clumped in an artisan bowl hand-baked claywork the uneven borders the painted face beautiful luscious like amber molasses a grove of marble walls […]

You, Yesterday

The next time I looked at you, I thought you seemed so small. I, at five feet craned my neck to scrutinize your six— measure your frailty, feeble, a faucet leak to my waterfall. I am intentional and you spoke with file cabinets at the edges of your mouth. Your words: lackluster drafts, half-formed […]

Note to Self

To grow older is a monument, and you’ve earned the exhaust fuel in your joints from your miles of riding, writing, working. Wear the ache earnestly, unabashedly around your knuckles like rings the years bent on one knee to gift to you. Your smile lines are army badges embroidered into you, meticulous stitches woven […]

Mushav Maor: a Five Minute Poem

And, how should I leave you? Open expanse, rooster crows, still mornings over stiff stalks holding in place their rustle, their shift from dawn to midday. How do I leave you, now? Stand and stride back, turn my shoulder and rub necks with your spiced air, your ripe, bitter breeze that tussles my hair and […]

Boston

This city is red brick and rugged fine art, portraits and public alleys, Whole Foods graffiti and museum dispensaries, sardine cars huddled and cooling— Your feet say, Rest, I’ll take it from here. This city is walkways and welcome signs hung low and dented by passerby trucks, a bumper’s jostle and a joke— Maybe […]