michelle.lerner

You breathe open-mouthed
the way horses never do
standing head against the wall
of your shed, leaning into it
because your legs can not hold you.
I think what is this thing
I am able to do
with a syringe,
how to know the very moment
when the needle on the meter of agony
passes the mark.
I have not eaten or slept for days.
When you can move at all
you stumble in circles.
You will not lay down.
Something very old tells you
to stay upright,
not to offer your jugular
to the wolves.
And I can not tell
if I am the wolf
or your shepherd,
needle in hand,
plunging,
bringing the ground
to you

"I am a legal aid lawyer and an MFA student at The New School. My poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Lips, Sojourner, Harvard Women's Law Journal, Paterson Literary Review, Poesy, Up and Under, and other publications."

Turquoise and Gold

by Don Snell

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