An Island of Bamboo
In the hillside cow pasture, an island of bamboo.
We boys creep inside, find the old homestead—
nothing left of the house but a chimney and a well.
We crouch at the lip of stone, drop pebbles
Category / Poetry
Glass Breather
Here is flickering flame, furrowed brow of
Blaschka as he pulls to tease crenate edges,
strictness and softening of pursuit.
He tends a garden with oxygen and propane
through leather bellows, the very sense of
Farewell, My Homeland
After the war, Poland’s borders shifted west.
Russia gained; the Germans were kicked out.
The few Jews who returned
were resettled in the west,
away from their homes in the east.
Mid-January with Chinese Poet — For Doug
I am reading Meng Hao-jan’s poems
and drinking the last of tea at twilight.
My wife, up from a late-in-the-day nap,
has taken the dog for her evening walk.
Because
because we don’t complain
about the piteousness of dove gray clouds
or the ostentation of aerial blue
because we need slumber less
to troop and swing by tail and limb
Nesting
The mouse in our house is a rat,
lugging stale pita across the floor
like a shield,
slipping inside the stove
all scramble and scratch,
Ms. Havisham
By Kathleen Holliday I, too, had great expectations. To be or not to be a wife defined my life. My dowry guaranteed a husband, and I would be a mother, helpmeet, nurse. Nothing could be worse than that damning epithet: old maid. Left at the altar – jilted. My bouquet wilting, I drew my veil […]
Continue reading… "Ms. Havisham"I’m Pretty Sure That’s Not It.
“Well,” she said, “what’s it mean?”
I thought I’d try to save her. “That guy, Pablo. He really liked lemons.”
“That’s all?” The marker hovered over the whiteboard.
I thought of that bird on television, cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.
What I Brought to Your Grave
You were just a young girl when you saw
that couple on Turtle Beach find that living
creature in a shell. The man said, Let’s go back
to the car and get the cigarette lighter.
You asked me to explain what that meant.
Comings and Goings
Father comes then goes in the morning
Looking into the bathroom mirror,
Mother, too, when I take the pills
And wait for the blood pressure reading.
Where do they go the rest of the time