Tag Archives: Jennifer Raha

Request

This slight twang doesn’t mean I come from collard greens though I am, perhaps, Bible-Belted despite my Yankee Social Security number, a family around here that skis, or used to— those freedom hunters with brawny calves, my cousins’ names are … Continue reading

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Portrait of the artist in four objects

Elizabeth Bishop’s Vase       Unadorned, holding daisies,       the happiest of days.       All those cushioned,       winged suns, petal pushed,       all limbs reaching for sky—       praise, unbridled—       how the Sun shimmies, shatters       through solid matter,       until everything is rainbow,       rainbow, rainbow. Mirror       The … Continue reading

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Mercy

      —after Elizabeth Bishop Aren’t we all mother to a flammable valley: a sudden licking fire in the belly’s pit, primal alert that disaster is imminent; we shan’t have lied, for even if the man still thinks her bed-head more beautiful … Continue reading

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Adolescence

Never as it should be and more hurricane. Recall that fall from grace, summer camp tragedy. The things I am no longer: aquamarine, concealed, a small-town rumor on a southbound train. Jennifer Raha is currently completing her MFA in poetry … Continue reading

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Faulty Devotional

I want to wish a flood, a new river to fill around us. To be part of many continuous outpourings, so that I could be remembered as lavender, chamomile. Forever I want you pulling me in -to your side as … Continue reading

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