top of page

Lyn Lifshin, three poems


ALMA, HER EYES SHINY COAL

ebony, her hair

glistening against

a pink bunting.

She is grinning,

looks ready for

adventure. Some

where else, birds

are coming back,

somebody puts

on green. In

Guatemala City

morning mist

burns off over the

hills in the distance.

Outside a window,

someone hawking

flutes and neck-

laces, carpets and

bags of nuts. The

wind is full of

marimbas and

lilies. She is the

music those waiting

to hold her go over

in their heads, the

lily they have waited

for their lives to

be the vase she

can bloom in

SOUL SONG FOR ALMA KARMINA

not a bluesy blues

but rose colored,

crimson. A song

of coming to you.

Bright strands

woven with suns,

lips and lilies,

bright Guatemalan

cloth. Past volcanos

and Mayan temples,

a song from rain

forests and swamps,

emerald grass

lands. Not a song

with heavy stones

in its mouth but

a dancing song, Alma

waiting for the ones

wanting her singing,

her onyx hair, the

river she floats

north to them on

AWAITING ALMA

Somewhere beyond the

temples, beyond

monkeys and toucans,

Coatimundis. Under

cloth woven of blues

and purples threaded

with animals and

leaves, the black

haired baby waiting like

something ripening.

The moon hands over

her cradle. A wind of

banana leaves and

coffee blends with

lilies and roses as

she will with the

ones waiting for her

 

Lyn Lifshin has published over 130 books and chapbooks including three from Black Sparrow Press: Cold Comfort, Before It's Light and Another Woman Who Looks Like Me, as well as The Silk Road from Night Ballet Press, alivelikealoadedgun from Transcendent Zero Press, and the forthcoming THE SILK ROAD and THE REFUGEES


Recent Posts

See All

Two poems by Kathleen Hellen

city of flaneuse, in crayolas with lines from the Rolling Stones Peach that used to be flesh-colored Indian Red (extinct)—now comes in colors head scarf in magenta, jogger barbie pinked comes dogwalke

"Stop Tagging Me in Photo Albums" by Vicki Liu

My first date’s hobby was going to therapy. The conversation was excellent then I never called him back. Amazing how I once ate a frozen grape and felt like I was tasting god. I’ll never go to a garde

"Ill-Conception"by Jacob Griffin Hall

Growing up, I never wanted to be anything. Someone walked with me, a babysitter maybe, and watched as I pocketed a handful of thorns. I never thought they’d make a memorable crown. No one died when I

bottom of page