Whippoorwill
I looked for you riding the down escalator on my way to the bargain table at Alexander’s where you used to take me to find a dress in a girl’s 10 chubby–but I’m no longer that size and I could not find you On some days your eyes turned green, other times hazel like Salvador […]
Tree Consumers
Trees shrug leaves like rusted appliances no one wants. New leaves grow without a discount they can’t recant. And see my recent review of “Coming Close: Forty Essays on Philip Levine” for Blue Lyra Review.
Yahrzeit Candle
For a big man, you left a small footprint, on your shoulders people created arabesques, formed pyramids as I watched from the edge of a plaid blanket knowing you were my father, the hand-balancer. Monday through Saturday you made orthopedic shoes near Second Avenue in New York City, now divided between a tarot reader and […]
Whenever We Make Love
I wear a young woman’s body, my skin taut and burning bright, scrubbed clean with a loofah, the scent of lavender or rose tucked away like a handkerchief in all the places I want you to touch. It’s not an illusion, even if I could stand behind a curtain and pull it off, more like […]
Hands and Feet
Whenever we took the subway to Orchard Beach,
my father held my hand until the last stop
at Pelham Bay Park where we waited for the bus
to drop us off behind the bath house.
Civil War
Broken-in shoes gather molded arches beneath an army of dangling limbs. Some wait, collars upturned, yearning to be made whole. Bare wire hangers dig meatless fingers into sagging woolen shoulders, the only warmth this place knows. Purple tinged fluorescence bruises her whites, exposes her blacks. A yellow bird sings through half-lit bars.
A Person of Carriage
She spoke with a Hungarian accent, her speech
bordered on vines and blue forget-me-nots
Double-take
A computer is the last place to look for the Holocaust.
Eastern Tiger Swallowtail
The next morning a single Eastern Tiger Swallowtail,
Black wings and a blue band, outside the garage door.
All morning it sampled Hosta, and wouldn’t go away.
The Morgue, the Merrier
Satchmo, of course; the Marsalis family, naturally, even Ann Rice, and her vampirish underground. But me living in Louisiana? You’ve got to be kidding! I got here on subways and BART trains, sidewalks, public parks, and noise made by people, not insects whining for hours in the summer heat loud enough to drown out a […]