Jul/Aug 2008 Poetry

Two Poems

by Joan Rene Goldberg

Drawing a Self Portrait

springing open her palm
ducks trickle in, a still life
enough wave in her hair to lie down on
skirt shining, baby blue rising over
water folding grass
sun light cast a palette translucent shades
abruptly leaves her cold and yellow white
I watched her youth disappear into the pond


Thin Slices of Bread (A Father Recollects)

our quarters suffocating
like small plastic bags
we became
thin thin slices

delivered for incineration
genetic resemblances annotated
the way we went down together


Previous Piece Next Piece