ABOUT

CONTENTS

EDITORIAL

ARCHIVE

LAGNIAPPE

MAST

SUBMISSIONS

 
TWO POEMS
by Hadara Bar-Nadav

"Dear mother,"

Things are wrong:

I set the alarm clock on and off
eleven times each night.

Jars confuse me;
I forget which way turns off and on.

Sometimes I forget what "cucumber" means
or how to say the word "drawer."

My left eye is twitching,
vision ripples and swells.

When I exercise my feet go numb
sweating into a deafness of feeling.

I suspect doorknobs are ruining my shoulder.
When I turn them bones squeak in their socket.

I am nervous, sleepless, and in love.

Love,
Hadara



"The Tickling Edge"

Before races like the one at Kutsher's Sports Academy
           where they thought I was the first girl to cross the finish line,
                      though I forgot the two miles around the soccer field and lake.

And before my one rockstar moment at Connections in Clifton,
          my hands refusing to play bass for drunk friends
                      crowded into the sweaty backroom.

Before hard drugs or sex with strangers in New York
           came a wild tickle lining the inside of my wrists
                      like snakes making love.

I slapped them to bite away the slippery heat
           that shimmied under skin, pushing electricity and indigo
                      through veins that could kill if cut.

Why my veins decided to tingle into dance
            before I was about to dive into a scene too deep
                      I'll never know.

I scratched my wrists
            until they burned with blood
                      and could no longer warn me.