Features

Legacy

My cultural legacy has revealed itself to me in unexpected ways. As a child of immigrants who came from a community of once-immigrants, I picked up some family mythologies via after-dinner stories, and some traditions through our special occasion activities. …

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Overburden

The story is almost always the same. Every six months or so, I make the trip from Tucson back to my old neighborhood in New York and discover yet another childhood landmark gone. Some landlord or other has forced a …

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In the Land of Superstition

It’s where black cats tend to live longer

than their allotted nines, and we avoid

cracks in the sidewalk to ward off whatever

might happen in the whatever places

of our minds. And on certain Fridays

when the thirteenth comes

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Love Songs for Lupus

1. Idiopathic

 

These rooms never have windows. I’m alone

and waiting, still dressed in the incessant blue

 

of their gowns. Outside this room, my whole life

swallows hard. My husband paces the waiting

 

room, flinting his fists.

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Meditation at Decatur Square

1.

 

In which I try to decipher

                               the story it tells, 

this syntax of monuments 

                flanking the old courthouse: 

                               here, a rough outline 

like the torso of a woman 

                great with child— 

                               a steatite boulder from which 

                the Indians

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Ghettoland: Exeunt

follow the morning star

 

Tell yourself it’s only a sliver of sun

burning into your chest, a cap of gold

or radiant halo justly worn by

the righteous at heart—

 

then take it off, stomp it, rip out

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