From Let The Wind Push Us Across by Jane Schapiro

on

|

views

and

comments

Tent

Sometimes in the morning,

before opening my eyes,

I dream of our tent,

that tiny green dome.

From behind its walls

thin as skin, I hear birds,

leaves, a brush of wind.

I yearn for that waking,

that once tethered dawn when

unzipping the door

I leaned into the world.

jane_s

Jane Schapiro is the author of a volume of poetry, Tapping This Stone (Washington Writers’ Publishing House, 1995) and the nonfiction book, Inside a Class Action: The Holocaust and the Swiss Banks (University of Wisconsin, 2003), selected for the Notable Trials Library. Her chapbook Mrs. Cave’s House won the 2012 Sow’s Ear Poetry Chapbook competition. Her essays and poems have appeared in publications such as the American Book Review, The American Scholar, Prairie Schooner, The Southern Review, The Sun, and Yankee among others.

http://www.janeschapiro.com/

Photo by Shin-ichi Kumanomido.

Share this
Tags

Must-read

Three Poems from Gillian Thomas

loose harvest In another life, I was edible flowers. I wore a fitted baby tee that said tubular. It came to define me. Fingerling sounds dirty—name of a...

Two Poems by CL Bledsoe

Eulogyafter a song by Tool If I can’t cry for you, how can I cryfor myself? Someday, they’ll find you,lightning burned tongue, wings long pawned,liver...

Two Poems by Jessica Genia Simon

Preserves I have an urge to preservetoday, boil the remaining fruitsto their sticky sugars, remove the pits and seeds, smash fleshadd pectin and lemon juice, pourand...
spot_img

Recent articles

More like this

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here