POEMS ON LOVE OF IDENTITY / IDENTITY OF LOVE Curated by Sharon Dolin Sharon Dolin is the author of six poetry collections, most recently Manual for Living (2016); Serious Pink (2015 reissue); Whirlwind (2012); and Burn and Dodge (2008), which won…
Browsing: MER Online
He buzzes me in, the stairwell narrow. His shop is filled always, holiday or not, with clients and clever women, an eagle’s nest from which he views the world below— “Bespoke Clothier” gilded on the plate-glass window. The room is…
The only hard thing is the alarm everything else I love— flicking on the coffee dumping goggles, cap and clothes into my bag for later slipping on the suit greeting the sleepy doorman who opens the door to the street…
to the pigpen I have prepared for you. Come and settle your fumes over the couch where I have lain myself among my books awaiting your arrival, O Grievance and Resentment, you well-worn pair, with your inspirations. You, the comfy…
Drunk and depressed twenty-five or so, waiting at bus stop, Cyclone behind me. Wanted to turn and ride but too self-conscious, even drunk. A pity. I loved this brain-rattling roller coaster this gravity train the slams and turns and…
Your wine-deep Eyes wound In the dark The gift of abandon on your lips: Open roses to my thirst Exultant petals *** I spilled the wine The stain spreading Over my prince’s white scarf A sign the rains of distance…
When she began to report on the world outside (first grade), strange pages came home. I saw everything all over again—the hunybee, the bootiful air, and the erthworm primitive without his “a.” Now she keeps a stethoscope in her car.…
Garissa University College – Kenya, April 2nd, 2015 Roused from sleep, she stands naked, voice locked in her tongue. Around her, her sisters, gripped in the chains of their eyes locked on the masked figures the long, dull…
Let’s gently unstick yours frozen to a popsicle (no more blood, please!) you insisted on a winter’s morn in front of the Smithsonian. Let’s use the Ouija board to talk to ghosts in the attic eave where we were once…
I love Bambi when a hunter shoots Bambi’s mother I hide under the seat until the movie ends My mother holds me whispers she’ll never leave I don’t know that love is my mother I only know her perfume her…