Lost
She packs her bags
Unready her heart refused to sing
Still unscoured by the relentless wind
The island’s breath so much stronger than her own
She fights the clothes onto the line
Pins each twice towels and shirts fight for release
as does she
from all the times past whispering
the door always unlocked always words unbidden
drowns her.
Over the ferns the sea rolls in the distance
The sun past zenith falling down to the western coast
Others are warned do not disturb
but what is there to disturb?
She begins to feel guilty
even the ghosts are bored
And the moon rises a hair-breath smaller
the noise
this noise
that is my noise
cicadas but not cicadas and whine
cacophony for one
sometimes music a long
way off a hymn without words
instruments unknown forgotten prayer
a winding cloth raps an interment off key
ricochets
ear to ear
escape almost when inside roar
falls in between outside shurrrrrrrrrrring
white
noise machine or water talk
no silence possible be careful
whatyouwishfor
mocking bird
still sings
Satie Pärt Glass
notes cross and send filaments to
mingle but not muffle
in the laps of sound
I sing myself inside out
Eve Rifkah is editor of the literary journal Diner and co-founder of Poetry Oasis, Inc., a non-profit poetry association. Her work appears, or is forthcoming, in Bellevue Literary Review, The MacGuffin, 5 AM, Parthenon West, newversenews.com, poetrymagazine.com, Chaffin Journal, Porcupine Press, The Worcester Review, California Quarterly, ReDactions, and others. Her chapbook At the Leprosarium won the 2003 Revelever chapbook contest. She is a professor of English at Worcester and Fitchburg, State Colleges.
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