Fiction   Essays   Poetry  The Ten On Baseball Chapbooks In Memory






Henry Rasof




Laurel

Maybe
Itís the way
You soothe or find two words
To my every one. Maybe
Itís the memory
Of darker hair, the
Bicycle seat, earrings. Maybe
Itís racing down
A field, girl
In green on the whitest snow,
Laurel.





Tumbling

We tumble down slopes,
Hugging the icy air, waving
Goodbye to the past,
Kick our shadows,
Watch the snow fall
And fall to our knees.
We have the same
Smooth body,
Smell, the same
Long legs. Together
We whisper Iím yours.
Dinner is spicy hot.
We keep warm after
Telling the whole street:
Surrender to the snow.
Your hat,
One of thousands,
Is pulled over your forehead,
Its band broken
Like the light on the corner:
Always green.




Brilliance in Bed


Quick, quick
A blood-red sunset greets me
In the mirrors of the night

I am looking
For a particular
Kind of voice

Scent of rose
Blush on the cheeks

Intelligence
Just short of Einsteinís

The ability to leap
Tall buildings
With a single bound

A voice with thrills
Like Pavarottiís

Ups and downs
At will

Songs that are deep
Very deep

A heart expanded
Shaped by
Saw and shrapnel
Mounds of feathery kisses

A whole family
That dances

Brilliance in bed
A ready joke
During massacres

Nails
Like a pumaís

Quick quick
The setting sun
May rise again



©2009 by Henry Rasof

Henry Rasof has degrees in music, creative writing, and Jewish studies. He worked in book publishing for many years, and also has been an oboist and chef. Currently he teaches at the University of Denver, has facilitated workshops on Jewish-Babylonian demon bowls, and does creative-writing activities with second- and third-graders.

His poetry has appeared in various magazines, including Beyond Baroque, Black Box, Gallimaufry, Kansas Quarterly, Monkey Puzzle, and Partisan Review and is forthcoming in Empty Vessel, In Stereo, Jewish Currents, Numinous, Pinstripe Fedora, and Poetica. He was born in Santa Monica, has lived in New York and Boston, and currently resides in Louisville, Colorado.


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