Lines That Didn't Make The Cut
Across the span, as counterpoint, a flock
of pigeons lifted into flight. “We get,”
he said, “a bullet each. If you do not die,
you do not die.” Nothing I regret
hurts more than this: I watched the cloudless sky
refuse to darken; I did not watch their guns
refuse to kill, or the rising of all those suns.
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I'm a poet and essayist. I write about poetry, writing, and translation; gender and sexuality; Jewish identity and culture; and the politics of higher education.
