Sunday, October 11, 2009

Two by Lyn Lifshin

JANUARY 7 1985

east dissolves
like a man who
is just cigar
smoke by morning.
Ashes blow in
to the bread,
the cat throws up
what she gulped
down. In the
mail box, only
letters with



the light on
Chinese dogwood

more substantial
than my own

body. The
bed a pool

with no bottom
where I treaded

water, pulled
at the

between us

- Both poems originally appeared in Joey and the Black Boots #20 (1998)

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