by Geri Rosenzweig

Published in Issue No. 173 ~ October, 2011

Home and far from home

where time moves like a breeze

stoned on nectar, I drift among the chatter

of tea cups and charming stories.

Clocks fold their hands, light smug

as a cat lies on the sill,

lace curtains yawn in the window,

the essential stamp of departure

inked on my soul at birth sleeps through

the tick and hum of an Irish summer;

what happened to the sharp stone

I always carry in my shoe

when I’m here? Too much loveliness

rots the mind,

one grows soft in the head,

forgets why one left in the first place.

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Geri Rosenzweig was born in Ireland, worked there as an RN before coming to New York. Her poems have appeared in such journals as Nimrod, Poetry International,Rhino, Rattle. One collection of poems, “Under the Jasmine Moon," HMS Press, Canada, chapbook, “Half the Story," March St. Press, chapbook, “God is not Talking," Pudding House Press. Poems forthcoming in Cider Hill Press and Clapboard House Poetry Journal.