Jane Levin

Atoll

Her life
is an atoll.

Tiny islands of dependency,
alluring from               afar.
Up close,
a relationship of sand.

She leaves at
                      high tide.

                      Floats

 
Originally appeared in The Minnesota Women's Press.

Devotion

ten little blue stems gather
at sunset
the minyan stands tall
bends in unison
wispy heads bob to earth
then sky
          then earth again
whiskers quivering
                        East

Musings

               
                         the Muse cannot stand
on our bridge, or glide her yellow kayak
                           down the mighty river

she is submerged
trapped by a twisted steel serpent
its mouth devouring a tiny red sandal

the Muse begins to write

a poem of courage
for divers
scrambling onto the banks
putrid sludge dripping from empty arms

a poem of hope for the father
curled into a broken teacup
on the dank carpet of the Holiday Inn

when the last hearse has left
the massive gravestones to settle
the Muse will resurface
write her rage

 
Written in response to the collapse of the bridge in Minneapolis and originally appeared in Writers Rising Up to Defend Place, Natural Habitat, Wetlands.