quiet
Posted by Ilana Millner | Filed under Poetry, Print
there’s something loud
in the way the leaves
shake
today.
they’re quivering
with anger
and the bark of their spines
writhes,
snakes.
I close my eyes
anticipating the explosion,
the splintered
extension
the fatal attempt
to pierce the thick
thick
skin of us all
because I saw
a woman tell her daughter
to
SHUT UP
on the subway
and my illiterate lips began to pray
please
please
don’t
because she was asking questions
with the sage of a saint
and I wanted to shake the dazed
and dusty
and disillusioned
passengers
with the fervor of my fear
and yell
BEHOLD
you have a miracle in your midst.
but I kept my place
my space
and watched her go silent
watched them stay silent
watched me be silent
like the trees
eventually.
marginal
Posted by Ilana Millner | Filed under Poetry, Print
sun
sets and
resets on
pages of text,
the lines, melting words
dripping ink seeps into
the perfect margins of the
day. And you tell me that it’s fine
because everything wet dries. Mouth shut
I, won’t remind you about me. the sea.
