The prisoners play with paper dolls

by shira

Mom sent me to my room
I’ve been so bad
That she can’t take my occupancy
Inside of her’s

I was telling her a story
About a horrible little girl
Who spilled juice on the carpet
And whispered it was her brother
Right while he was in the room
Watching TV, clean-faced, next to a purple-stained glass

I wiped my face off with my sticky sleeves
I could taste the sweetness
And thought to myself
That I could survive through dinnertime every night
When it was too quiet for me to think
If I shacked up in my room
To grow strong on poison I cast off on my arms and legs

And my dad was up there, too
Mom had sent him to his spot
In between the wall and the clock
They slept in separate beds, he
On his mattress with his socks underneath
That he tosses out of sight
Under the bed springs
To forget he used to have a lively step

Dad and I,
We were both bad
He left too early and came back too late
And I came too early and never tried to leave
Even when given the signal
Of raised arms and lowered voices
Animations in the kitchen
Husband, wife, son, daughter

She found out my secret
When I confessed through a flower vase
Set in between the salt and pepper shakers
Someone said grape juice
And I just turned so red

Olivia

by shira

my youngest niece follows me to the kitchen
to watch me make our lunch
i've never loved a child more
and wouldn't still if i'd known myself
when i was her hands
and i had her age

her mother says she looks like me
and for the first time, i have a sister
the daughter of my brother
the surprise of his wife
my definition of their life

i was accommodated for, too
and my eyes were blue like Olivia's
one day, she'll dress in my old clothes
and i'll tell her what she used to love






*** get posting, you guys.

I never said I'd be a scholar

by shira


The rain dripping from my desk drawer
Comes from an apple core
Bit it in half
Cut it in slices
Left to dry inside a beat-up box

A pile of dust under the night-light
Come on, illuminate my schoolbooks
Has been dug up
But not blown away
By a woman searching for her buried love

The tears spill from the skin
Ripped and wrinkled by a knife
To pool in a puddle
Below my pens and pencils

I’ll write about the woman's man
With my sticky felt-tipped pen
My fingers are soon yellow
From a forbidden fruit

The desk drawer isn't bad
If you want to be forgotten
If you want to live
Between erasers and the scissors

If you're in a scholar’s life
You’re wrong, and better off
Dripping until dry
Invisible and cut in two,
Than to linger, lust, and leak
Hoping someone will write about you

some poems

by shira

Sunday Mornings and Tuesday Afternoons

The table outside of the sanctuary
Held the calendars and arm cuffs
To tell when torah study was
To give blood to our brothers and sisters

The table outside of the sanctuary
Was dusty and my hands picked up the dead bits
Of storytelling that the wind had sentenced to sleep
So when I wiped all the words on my pants
The rabbi scorned me
Said I was too proud
Said I was too slight
To recall any ancestor’s words

So I ran outside
And waited for my ride
And Mrs. Fagel found me on the bench
Said there was a special job for me
A bird had died on the front drive
And only I could pick him up
The only one left after Hebrew school was over
So I got a bag
And Ben just stared at me
I never spoke up in class
But I could handle a cadaver





I Was in the Choir

I never thought I’d sing
In the synagogue choir
I asked to be in it
After everyone had quit

Years later
After my Bat Mitzvah
After Hasha heard me sing
When I shook and I chanted each word
So nervous, the bima had made me,
She asked me to be in the choir
To sing on the high holy days

I sang a solo on the New Year
I sang it and atoned
While people bowed their heads, I held mine up
So that they all could hear me sing
About proper meditation
I felt guilty singing
While everyone was silent
And keeping my eyes raised to watch the conductor
Was a sin in my eyes, so I never looked up

Yihyu l’ratzon imrei fi
Oseh shalom bim’romav
Hu yah aseh shalom aleinu
Ve’al kol yisrael
Ve’al kol yoshvei teivel y’imru amen





Apples and Honey

I dreaded the longest service
Rosh Hashanah morning
About 4 hours of chanting
2 hours of page turning
While we stood and sat again and again

My congregation was never that big
Except for a single service
Since we were welcoming the sweet New Year
And apples and honey would be served

The first time I ever got it
Was last year in September
When the part of the day came
That always made me so uneasy

Where we could get on our knees if we wanted to
And pray to the highest of everything
Only once a year was this gesture
Ever suggested

For the first time
I tried it
Lowered myself to the ground to see
If there were anything I’d been missing

Any sort of recollection
Gets me low again
I never knew how much I felt
That I should bow to anything

Shadows on the road

by shira

When I’m driving home from the place I love
The place
Not a place
Since it’s the only one

From the only one
Far enough away
That I can count on only wind to bring his smell
I expect the roads to be the way I like

When shadows from tires
Are cast on the run-overs
That barely yell out when rubber hits its face
I’d rather have a bicycle so I’d take up much less space

I’m being caught up with
And sought after
There’s a devil with a flashlight
Since I’m driving fast to get home
Not even my home
But the one I sleep in

Buzzing street lamps make me think that
The way I was brought up
Was to hide from illusions
That make you think you are the real one

My headlights are so dim
When seated near a wooden lamp
Over our heads when I lay with you
And you fold and unfold both my hands

I hate to see the space behind me
Where I escape from and spit on
Grow so dark
Back to its beginning
When I gave it new light
Just by passing through

Anything ahead
Will need this nurtured nature, too

The Replacement

By: Starlight

His lips came crashing down onto mine
I closed the heavy lids of my eyes
and conjured up your ghost
to replace his visage.

I imagined your curly hair wrapped around my fingers
and the frame of your glasses pressed up against my cheek.

But deep inside, I knew it wasn't right;
they're not your lips against mine,
and they wouldn't be even if I tried.

A Smile Framed in Photographs.

Written by Kester Henrick

You say you see a contrast.
You like me better dark than light.
Because it’s true, honesty only gets people hurt or severely disappointed.
And maybe that’s the case with me.
For I hate the things I once loved.
The only one who bothered to change things is me.
And I found God in the shape of a woman I could never have.

Simply Put

tinny tulle

Funny thing is
I think I found love once
In arms never to hold me tight
Lips that never dare caress my own
And eyes that looked miles beyond me

I was never given the time of day
Because of your pride and girlfriend
And my own stumbles with words and gestures

And that time you called
And told me that your world was spinning
Both Vertical and Horizontal
And then mumbled how you felt about me
While you slurred your words together
But it was a mistake to be spoken aloud
Something we both felt but never should have been said
But you did and I know you meant it

It's just a shame
That nothing ever comes of mistakes
Because if it did we wouldn't still be looking
for people like one another
Someone to love
When were just blocks apart
With miles between our hearts