Scratching a dent in the old Everest tree
I’m wrenched forward
writhing and fluttering
a magazine page in a landfill
images stick and blur together
like cotton candy on a hot boardwalk
sunshine turns white when you stare
and fireflies melt when you catch them
all of these forgotten things
like the ritual bath in the synagogue
my grandmother and her Yiddish
living in Poland without ever being Polish
I keep finalizing then digging again until
the blankets become too heavy
the water starts giving me a rash
next to the mosquito bite on my ear
and eyes spring open
as mahogany gleams and fades
blood vessels overwhelming the red puffy sclera
and I don’t dare make a sound
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