Category: Poetry
-
A Body in Pain is a Wild Thing
-
Our New York
Once, I sent you a poem about kissing a girl named Lauren on a street corner and you said you wanted to kiss me on every corner of New York. Now I carry the map of your kisses imprinted on my skin wherever I go, writing over all my past New Yorks with the one…
-
Lauren, 1st and 8th
Somewhere out in the cosmos There’s a map of New York And on certain street corners Scrawled under the bold type Of green and white street signs Are the names of the women I’ve kissed there The cartography of my life left in spit and lipstick and the echos of heckles On those sidewalks Just like the…
-
A Returning
When, each spring, I dig my still winter cold fingers into the soft dark soil and Deposit those little balls of sealed potential in their magic dens, I am digging up myself As much as I am planting seeds. We both have slumbered this past season and now Push up through the murk and Tilt…
-
Anticipation
To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow, so goes the saying, But I am never patient And Tomorrow feels a distant shore So far it might as well be Mars.
-
What I miss the most is other people
Remember discussing other people’s eavesdropped lives Like they were your own? Remember The feeling of sitting in a midwinter coffee shop Watching snow fall Warmed by the buzz of caffeine and other people’s ordinary Conversations. Remembering: An ache for something in your chest Like the burn of too much strong coffee. Remembering: A yearning for…
-
The Wave
I never thought too hard about the curve of my waist, Just a stop on the path of streaming line that flows from ear to neck to shoulder to ribs to hips to knees to ankles A snug place for the band of my jeans The shelf I rest my books or hands or nephews…
Sarah Levine 