pro tempore

A year ago today, one of the students I worked with died. Out of respect I took a few days off posting my poems for napowrimo—because they were about him—knowing and losing him, and because it seemed irreverent to share them. Exploitative, almost. I thought maybe time would make it less so, and that after working on them some I would post them today, but I still don’t feel quite right.

Hopefully I will write something new the next couple days.

Or be back with the great April rewrite by the 17th.

To Stefan and Yakov

I remember you, my
orphan boys of Uzhgorod
hanging on the border of Ukraine

all knobby shoulders and ribs
Stefan, I think I can see your heart
swell against your bare skin
and recede
drawstring shorts and bare feet
and a crown of fuzzy gypsy hair

Yakov in a white tank top
your shorts pockets stuffed with
tart wild plums from
the orchard that you showed me
dragged me to
chattering all the while in tongues
wilder than Ukranian, with
words that would be foreign
even to your own mothers

your small bodies could
flutter to the top
of a plum tree
effortlessly
and cast down the small
bitter fruits and
I imagined your bones
were hollow

later, after whispering good-byes
I knew you couldn’t grasp
I stole one last glance:
you press your faces against bars of iron
kneel
extend your arms
and scream
for what you had
one August afternoon
Continue reading ‘rewrite #6: remembering’