poetry

  (Vatican Museum)   In this huge copy of Guido Reni’s Slaughter of the Innocents, men of power turn their backs on death and tourists; soldiers avert their eyes as throats are slit in much the same way goats have … Read More

  Small creature                   running through the burning grass,         you will be of use. In the old language,                   there was nothing but simple words,                   (mousescratch,                                                   mousesniff) yet everything was accounted for. Your body … Read More

  When you come to a door, do not think you need to open it. When the door is a man, close it. When the door is a man, rub your body against it. When the door is a woman, … Read More

  You’ll come to learn that my father left me when I was a child & your father’s father died in a Berlin prison. We exchanged these stories the night we met like vows that had already married us.   … Read More

  Caught in the thought-tangled thicket The ram by its horns grows weary: How begin to die? A child no longer A child asks his question to the stone He sat on waiting. He throws in time. He throws in … Read More

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Dear Lightning it was the lightning Lord that knocked the tall firs down One fir on either side Across the narrow road to the monastery / Trapping me there in the monastery That made me Lord believe in You It … Read More

Rolling across the lawn It sometimes stops me dead. My rolling girls stop too, knowing Something’s gone wrong again. One of them, I can’t remember who, Crawls through the grass and whispers A secret language in my muddy ear. You’re … Read More

I think of David’s rod deep under Silwan— visions of Batsheva mouth to the earth: “Now turn on your right side without thinking of your right side.” My transplanted spine, a cleft rind of envy, pretends it is a third … Read More

I. “The colline were covered in daffodils,” my Nonna tells me. II. Green grows yellow with swollen seeds. How suddenly they open releasing their egg yolk trumpets. III. I am the school girl immersing in daffodil waves. No, those are … Read More

Did I walk from his party, thirsty and dry? If I had quit drinking where was the Saqi? In one shaft, she has the two impaled. First my head, now my heart has failed. On your feet Ghalib, find a … Read More

Slate blue clouds, bare trees Standing sentinel: in the air A mild chill. What better day, Dear God, to be alive, to be still.