Summer 2004


Summer 2004

Jennifer Firestone

On top of a mountain
orange-fisted poppies
a buzz flickers around my skin
in my ears.
You’re oblivious
sucking on sour grass
staring at tree rings.
I follow
looking for bats, shooting stars, moss in the forest.
Robbed of my worth
as I hide in the dirt,
what will I become?
I’m invisible
my speech threaded
on a pair of wings.
I’m inutterable
hair falling
into deep sticks.
Dear, this is bliss.
Dear, this is an unforgivable planet
where apathy blooms amidst the wildflowers
and stars burn out, one by one.

Jennifer Firestone teaches poetry at Hunter College in New York City. An excerpt from her manuscript Holiday has just been published by Sona Books. Poems are either published or forthcoming in LUNGFULL!, HazMat Review, Yefief, Diner, moria, Karamu, The Cortland Review, Tin Lustre Mobile, Sugar Mule, Feminist Studies, Sidereality,, Madison Review, Interim, Phoebe, and So to Speak.



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