• Jessica Lieberman

Four Poems


A Deep Blue

buzzing follows her

like a man

shouting Revelation

at the asphalt.

Her mouth is a flower

turned inward—

how terrible to be

alive. The body

remembers

everything. She thinks

of Celan.

His heart, a luminous

box.

Poppies Standing

in for death. My

father tells me I see only

one dark thing.

I see snuff

like wallpaper.

My words are dark.

I see a worm, eater

of death. Thread

patterns

my throat. How

did I learn to sew

like that? I read

a poppy.

I believe

in red and black.

Return

I was pleased

when my body fell

out of my body.

Easy as a friend. No

small hiding

of relentless formation—

I want

this absence.

I got away with myself

again.

Night Lifted Her

brick skirt

for me—

the beginning

of that dance of sacrifices,

winter.

Winter

wintered on around her

like a shushing.

The way ruins,

rumors—shhh—

take the mouth around them

—shhh

Jessica Lieberman's work has appeared or is forthcoming in Kenyon Review Online, Bennington Review, The Laurel Review, Horsethief, Salamander and other journals.


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