Saturday, 28 April 2018

Three Windows And An Endearment

by Judy Katz-Levine


There are houses with huge eyes. The
Church spires, the lights on in some.
White cars pass slowly and I look
Down - they are trying to get a glimpse
Of me, they ease themselves to a place
Right under my window, and I move away.
The black cars are good - I hear the words
“We like you, hang in there, you saved our
Mothers.” I say “bueno” barely perceptible
Utterance of my lips.


This window holds a red cross, a sign
That I am in a hospital. I can see a
Waiting room, the chairs, the little computer.
In the indigo twilight I do tai chi by the
Window, the houses with lights in their
Windows, a chain of wind-lights like
A daisy chain. White pick-ups pull
Up to the stop sign - Nazis inside.
The branches of the trees like bare arms
Of the oppressed. Souls like
Blue flames.


This is the window of mountains.
Nameless mountains which are olive and
Purple, the solidity of their presence.
Radio towers blink - an intensity of starlight.
The gas station with red neon, the
Abstract painting in the office and
The lights on within. There’s a Christmas tree
All lit up. The mountains preside.

I am so vulnerable and hurt and
My hidden wife will take my hand and raise it
To her lips.  We will climb these
Mountains, again, again, again.

* * * * *

Judy Katz-Levine,, is an internationally published poet whose two full-length collections include "Ocarina" and "When The Arms Of Our Dreams Embrace".  Her chapbook, "When Performers Swim, The Dice Are Cast", was published in 2009 by Ahadada.  A new full-length collection, "The Everything Saint", will be published by WordTech in August of 2018.  Her poems have appeared recently in "Salamander", "Blue Unicorn", "Constellations", "Peacock Anthology", "River Poets Journal", "Event Horizon", "Miriam's Well", "Unlikely Stories Mark V", and many other journals.  Also a jazz flutist, she performs on occasion and writes spiritual melodies for flute and voice.

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