Elizabeth Jacobson

Issue #
October 3, 2017


Warm from the bed,

from the goose down,

I wake this morning

from the depths of not refusing

a long evening’s sleep

accompanied by Whitman:

The curious sympathy one feels
when feeling with the hand
the naked meat of the body,

Whitman’s body a refrain woven

through the red thread of me; a hard

freeze last night, and the light has changed

to the winter light.

There is no previous item
Go back to Top Menu
There is no next item
Go back to Top Menu