by Rosalind Brenner
Let me wash your back
tempt you to take a shower with me,
come up against you, soap away the black.
We’ll invite our own catastrophe.
Outside the golem’s threat and gusts still roar,
wind stirs the sea, our beaches disappear.
The bay’s a tyrant whipping at the shore,
inside, our climate chills with fear.
Sound churns like an errant train
turns colder with the loss of heat and light
made night by time and driving rain.
Shower me and calm this tempest’s blight.
Press close and rise with me to pleasure’s rift.
We’ll find a way to make this weather shift.
Rosalind Brenner is a painter/poet with an MFA from Sarah Lawrence
College. Published: The Cortland Review; Poetry Bay; The Southampton
Review; Long Island Sounds; Walt’s Corner in The Long Islander; Taproot
Journal; Performance Poets Association Literary Review; Ontologica;
Whispers and Shouts; The Poetic Bond; The Arroyo Literary Review,
among others. Books: “Omega’s Garden” (Finishing Line Press) and “All
That’s Left” (Art House Press).