Deborah Finkelstein, US

 

 

Triolet   Before Me   I hope she doesn't go before me How could I handle that? I never thought the door was so close I hope she doesn't go before me Open wounds paint her skin Tubes zig zag around her body I hope she doesn't go before me I couldn't handle that.     Glimpse of the Spirit   Glimpse of the spirit Shout like a red ghost Light diminishes Glimpse of the spirit Stone breath Candles out Glimpse of the spirit Shout like a red ghost     We Do Not Move   We do not hear them say, “Let’s go,” We do not move. We are hungry. We do not hear them say, “Let’s go.” We bathe in orange panang, red tea on our lips As rice noodles entangle themselves in a sea of massaman. We do not hear them say, “Let’s go,” We do not move.       Free Verse   Untitled For James Rosenquist   Spray-painted numbers On my lens Where Alphabet City meets Chinatown Games under the umbrella in the restaurant The bomb The railroad Eject here Pastels in the background Green grass in the sky Turning brown from too much sun     Haiku   husking corn— wondering if he’s really at a meeting     crowded bar, a woman whispers in my ear— missing my wallet     new flame, drinking martinis— thinking about his parents’ divorce     letter meant for my neighbor— wondering if he knows about the cancer     auditorium applause— she jumps off his lap, runs in a circle and barks

 

About Deborah Finkelstein   Deborah Finkelstein is an MFA Creative Writing Candidate at Goddard College. She received The Aurorean’s “Creative Writing Student Outstanding Haiku Award” 2008 and Second Place for Poetry in the Santa Fe Community College Poetry Competition 2006. Her poetry has been accepted into The Nor' Easter, Moonset, Bear Creek Haiku, FreeXpresSion (Australia), Quay Journal and Time Warner's Miracles of Motherhood. She’s also published short stories and journalism, and had plays produced in festivals. She teaches creative writing and works as an editor. This is Deborah Finkelstein's first appearance in Sketchbook.   Photo Needed