ritual
in the van on the way back from Terezin/Teresienstadt
ignoring the girl in the seat next to me
pretending to be exhausted
searching for density
too sparrow-fingered to hold a pen
too stone-footed to walk
we arrive at our apartment
i fall on the couch between the door and the bed
wake up with the words
"blessed are"
in ink on my right forearm
like black wire beads on a blue string
i consider getting a tattoo
but instead re-write the words
every few days
meticulously tracing each ghost
into the present
2 comments:
I like how pared down this is, it allows the small moments to really stand out and gives the poem an interesting ephemeral quality. I think you've also done a really good job of creating a feeling here, without really describing it.
Erica
Thanks, Erica! It's actually just a first draft/brainstorm, which shows you how I work - I start with skeletons, and fill them in, as opposed to lots of people I know who write pages and pages and then pare them down.
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