Lynn Fanok

BLUEBERRY-PICKING

______________________________

Nomads,
displaced and stained.

Pick good ones,
toss aside the wilted,
caved in
like deflated
blue balloons,

detached,
a random clutter
left to shrivel
under the brush.

—–

CONFESSION

______________________

Our father told us
about a Tartar custom.

They’d tie an enemy’s legs
to two horses,
and strike each animal’s rump
to send them galloping
in opposite directions.

When I was a child
my father talked
about a Tartar’s soul,
which I believed
was embedded in me,
like a tick or a splinter,

or a chronic guest
who stubbornly refuses
to take his leave.

LINED UP ON THE BACK SEAT

________________________________

going home
from the beach
and squirming,
forced to create a continuity
of form on the station wagon’s
blue vinyl bench

like a school
of smoked whiting
arranged one-by-one
on a delicatessen tray
under smeared windows
without cohesive substance,
except for arms and legs,
stuck to the blue vinyl.

—–

Lynn Fanok is a poet and musician who recently returned to graduate school where her interest in poetry was reignited. She has written a collection of poems about her experiences as a survivor’s daughter examining her family, her memory, and her history. Lynn, originally a Jersey girl, lives in lovely Bucks County, Pennsylvania.

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