Andrea Cohen

Independence Day

We wave
at the floats

that go past,
at the marching

promised lands,
at the flagging

ponies, at the
ghosts we won’t

let go of–

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God,

I forgive you
for letting
us invent you.

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The Longest Day

I miss her simply.
She, alone, without

fanfare, companioned
me. Only she, beside

this green-tossed
sea, could say

we swam inside
it once. One

life is
too much.

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Firing Squad

In our line of work,
three men must fire,
because we have three

women to go home to,
three bedstands with lamps,
three shaving mirrors,

and three straight razors
to convince it was
another man’s bullet

that hit its mark.

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Beginning (Again)

Small funerals
may resume.

Forgive me
for not

(under
the weight

of this
casket)

clapping.

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Andrea Cohen's most recent poetry collection is Everything (Four Way Books, 2021.) She directs the Blacksmith House Poetry Series in Cambridge, Massachusetts. More poems, etc.: andreacohen.org