Posts by lynlifshin

Late November

By on Dec 2, 2015 in Poetry | Comments Off

one minute, the sun was out, it was fall. Geraniums under a quilt last night, a             blotch of red opening. On the front step what looked like lint has small pink claws and feet. Next the sky was the color of lead.  Geraniums under a quilt last night like a child you’ve tucked in or a body wrapped in the earth under leaves. In the swirl of sudden snow, what was left of the headless fur blows west  Like a child you’ve tucked in whatever was living, a just born squirrel I suppose, hardly a living thing            ...

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Violet Jelly

By on Dec 1, 2015 in Poetry | Comments Off

picking the leaves Monday early in a cool rain huddled in wet sweatshirts. Hours in the grey, knees and fingers numb. Our skin smells of violets while they soak in the red pan overnight till we boil the green. Then the pectin turns them lilac. We pour them into glass, amethyst the sun comes thru on the window after...

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Each Night She is Like a Drowning Nymph

By on Feb 6, 2015 in Poetry | Comments Off

like a woman pulled out of the river and dressed in warm clothes, her lips parted. The twist of words that will keep blood flowing thru her body. She could be a woman close to drowning, reeled in with eels and sea weed, fins, like Rapunzel shimmying to freedom, her own hair, her words a rope to...

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The Pearls

By on Feb 4, 2015 in Poetry | Comments Off

An engagement present from my husband’s parents. Shoved in a drawer like small eggs waiting to hatch, forgotten. They seemed like something in a high school photograph. I’d have preferred a large wrought iron pendant, beads that caught the sun. Pearls were for them and I was always only a visitor, tho he said he wished I’d call him Dad. Sam was all I could get out. It was hard to throw my arms around him, to bubble and kiss. And not just because they thought me a hippie, a witch, thought I took their son’s car and stamps and coin collections. Pearls wouldn’t...

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By on Sep 30, 2014 in Poetry | Comments Off

things I have and don’t have come from this moving between people like smoke. I’ve been waiting the way milkweed I brought inside two years ago stays suspended, hair in the wind it seems to float, even its black seeds don’t pull it down tho you don’t under stand how any thing could stay that way so long

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