Academic journal article Shofar

If I Forget Thee O Jerusalem

Academic journal article Shofar

If I Forget Thee O Jerusalem

Article excerpt

for MTA

In this small, hard book,

a photograph of a jar filled with candied cotton.

What is its purpose, a spun glass full of glass,

shot by glass lens and rendered through on plates of glass?

O to contain my throat.

O I mean for my throat to contain.

I do not forget how I stood at the base of a mountain,

burning down gold, my tongue numb

I sometimes dream in that second language.

I book in that hard tongue.

Balls, says the daughter of the traitor. Ballocks.

But still - and as many daughters who swiftly move their hips

to collect strands of glassy glass spinning

they stood at the base of a spine in the gold sand and were One.

Cotton balls, but they look like candy.

They look like paradise, rendered this way, like meat.

They look like a word I know.

When I cannot swallow,

I reach for the carafe of second language and drink it down.

It burns like that rich gold of pregnant sickness,

of having a girl and giving her, too, to God,

a hard locket on a chain, a photograph unsilvering behind glass. …

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