by Alan Bern
A Pocket Poem, Found in Goodwill (Translation: We Buried Her on a Wednesday)
when the chayote skin dried out
& its roots withered
like fish vertebrae in my hand
I took her clothes from the closet
& splayed them out in front of
me. kneeling on the wooden floor:
meshes of azure & coral pulled
from sea. it was like
watching a sailor in shipwreck, afloat
among the algae blooms. not knowing
if he is struck with foaming beauty
or home-longing because his eyes
never tipped & leaked. I saw:
a few scattered jumpers a wind-blown
blouse. a purple sweater with a bleeding lip
a screaming orange. shirt from volunteering
at the children’s hospital. a home-knit
shawl. jackets with secrets tucked
in its pocket: a love letter, a recipe,
a grocery list with five different
types of squashes, a sleepy haiku. then
perhaps another to-be shawl or scarf or vest, with the hems
still loose. a green linen dress,
that she always wore when she danced. she never danced
in front of me. it was always in private,
in the corridors without eyes & only teeth. outside,
the earth was set to simmer
& the cicadas
burned & the moon embers
plucked a song
& the floor held
its breath
&
she
danced
sometimes, when it rains soft
enough to wash the city
away from itself,
when the sky becomes
a constellation of unfastened fish jaws, you might
find
these phantoms
clipped to cloth
leaking from beneath the closet.
this orange shirt might rock in the air
with a cavity in its arms. this shawl/
scarf/vest might knit
& unknit itself. this dress,
you might find in a corridor, or
you might not.
what I mean to say is:
I am counting days
by the amount of time it takes
to press a dried squash into my palms
until it breaks
butternut, honeynut,
red kuri,
kabocha,
chayote
Ariel Zhang is a poet from California. She is a ruth weiss Youth Poet Award winner, and her work appears in Chapter 510. She believes in the endurance of poetry to say to the world that “we are here.” She is fond of words, photographs, and sunsets.
Retired librarian Alan Bern received an M.A. in Creative Writing from Boston University studying with Anne Sexton. Alan has published three books of poetry and a hybrid fictionalized memoir, IN THE PACE OF THE PATH, Uncollected Press (2023). He has hybrid book, Dreams of the return, forthcoming from Old Scratch Press, and a chapbook, because lack, from back room poetry. Recent awards: Longlist, The Bedford Competition (2023); Winner, Saw Palm Poetry Contest (2022). Recent/upcoming writing/photo work in: ArLiPo, Porridge Magazine, and Mercurius. Alan is a published/exhibited photographer and operates the fine press/publisher Lines & Faces with artist/printer Robert Woods, linesandfaces.com. https://www.instagram.com/abobern/ https://twitter.com/AlanBern1/ https://www.facebook.com/alan.bern.1 https://www.linkedin.com/in/alan-bern-6b19448/