I hear the leftover women
pray beside
one another’s heads
curls of soft inclusion
and I hate
the foggy outside
the bodies we are not
the sweaters we make
for winter
will approach us
should we choose to
or no
and I hate
the brilliance beyond
we can have anything
if we put our minds
to being bereft
BUT WE'VE BEEN AT THIS FOR YEARS
tying a knot
conspicuously
men
at work
low residency
professionals
we stay
late
we hear ourselves
working
hard
at work
fixing the ties
that bind
a neighborhood
to grill meat
how neighbors know
we've been at it
for years, tying
knots on fences
to tell what we
came to hear:
the story of men
feeding men
conclusions, the story
of where we'll
end up, the story
of always knowing,
the story of
serious moonrise,
the story of
rigorous night
PRAYER
I grip the light
and pray on it,
cautious in my
belief. Dear
Megan: when
do we get
to love our
cracking?
I have come
across mountains
so as not
to pray.
I have played,
anxious, with
children,
wondering
how much
caution they
see. I have not
explained the
way my body
is growing,
Megan: I was
already strong.
In this lesson we
will watch the rain
together from inside.
I will ask
you nicely
to tell me
what I see.
TOO WILLING
I get wrapt
by a cloth
of happy plants
grown still
in the cold, or
is that how
growth goes,
does everyone know
how to view
this event
already
*
I have an idea
my captain
is my skin
press uneven against me
like a real body could
there is
no even
evolution
*
am I
too willing
to be safe
on legs?
when
I want
every body
to speak
Leora Fridman is the author of Precious Coast (H_ngm_n B_ _ks), Obvious Metals (Projective Industries), On the architecture and Essential Nature (The New Megaphone), and Eduardo Milán: Poems (Toad Press). With Kelin Loe, she edits Spoke Too Soon: A Journal of the Longer.