Tag Archives: Rucha Bordj

A Glimpse

He is quietly curled on one hip, one elbow. A man curled in half, Twenty-eight. I rub his bottom leaving all of my touch, soothing his near-sleep. I didn’t know him then, but grin at his imagined baby body, still … Continue reading

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Sweet tooth

Because she doesn’t limit him, she eats every pastry he buys – knows she can make better. The night she forgets her toothbrush he offers her his own, asks if she has cavities – if she does, she will not … Continue reading

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Tea time

Tea leaves huddle like pity at the bottom of my mug, a moon series gather closest to empty, little slivers of my future. It is September. Crickets comb wings and legs together, chirping notes to the window screen towards the … Continue reading

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Maternal Caress: For Painter Mary Cassatt

A child caresses a mother’s face, she’s been painted into a memory. The motherless painter can’t keep herself out of this moment. She is the foliage surrounding the two figures, the gloss catching the light and her reflection each time … Continue reading

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Mother’s Day

I thought I’d stop at the sight of her bent geometry taking the shape of something newly dead. I swerve past a pause and she shows me on her own torso the rows of hunger: how the nipples cast shadows … Continue reading

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After

When I return again, my garden is swollen. I did not feed it all summer. I study the word appetite. Say it out loud like a lover’s name. The tomatoes are oddly shaped and overripe, split down the middle open … Continue reading

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Permanent

Each date, you discover another tattoo. Our clothes build taller heaps beside your bed, mine, the kitchen tiles, until every plot of skin has been known, you the jew, kissing the flesh I’ve defaced. Your mouth maps trails all over … Continue reading

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