Poetry

Poetry |

“Duncan Farm November Meditation”

“what died with father / what died with mother / there was more i wanted to know / say again the names of distant places / russia   lithuania    ukraine”

Poetry |

“Maybe the Messiah”

“Maybe the Messiah not coming is proof enough, Kafka chalks / across the board, that God exists. He’s subbing my eighth-grade / math class …”

Poetry |

“To the Last Bottle in the Back of My Fridge”

“I can quit whenever I want. / But not today, not now, / when you have just coaxed me onto a table / at the bar and now I am spiraling / out of sync with the music.”

Poetry |

“Minsk Elegy”

“In the year 1942 my relative Misha Luditsky, / A student, volunteered to fight the Germans. / He deported Chechens and Crimean Tatars.”

Poetry |

“Three Days,” “Coppice” & “Cicadas”

“I think he didn’t want me to see. He told me to go check the rods. / When I came back, the hare’s jacket was off, his intestines were out, and we baked him on the grill.”

Poetry |

“Field Days” & “The Old Mill”

“Last together behind his wood shed, / making out against the worn shingles / until his girlfriend tracked us down, gripping // a pitchfork …”

Poetry |

“Things I Forgot to Tell You”

“At times, I can still be twelve and play alone with nothing to lose but marbles. / At times, there’s a distance between my faces. / One haunts one’s own life.”

Poetry |

“Myers-Briggs” & “Minivan Mafia”

“I took a personality test that claimed I was a passionate idealist, so I printed off the results and flossed my teeth with them because I refuse to be compartmentalized into eight different traits like deli meat tubs at a sandwich shop …”

Poetry |

“The reign of dinosaurs ended in spring”

“Whatever worldlings mutation made, / the eons hatched endings: immolation, ice. / Only our latest extinction arrived // from without, a sentence tied to a stone …”

Poetry |

“Wyoming” & “The Baker’s Wife”

“Each hold tools of the literate — / he the volumen, the scroll, she / the wax tablet and stylus. / But oh, how the experts go on …”

Poetry |

“Nancy With the Laughing Face”

“I can hear her sloshing in the bath. / The phone rings. Ma yells, ‘It’s your boyfriend.’ / She bursts out still wrapping herself in a towel.”