jehanne
dubrow
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On Verse Daily
Read a "Fragment from a Nonexistent Yiddish Poet."
On Fringe
FROM THE FEVER WORLD
A poetry of an almost incandescent intensity, a kind of fever dream in a world forever winter. —ELEANOR WILNER
FRAGMENT FROM A NONEXISTENT YIDDISH POET
In the fever-world, my dearest,
our hands aren’t clean
for very long, the brambles
biting in our palms,
deep thorns across our life lines—
here, even the shrub
surrendering fruit to the picker
resents the sacrifice and wants
its juices given back in blood.
if you are hungry, starve yourself.
Make a desert of your thirst.
Don’t fall asleep
Here, my dearest,there’s only wilderness where fields
should be, only the blackberries
concealing knives,
cherries pitted with buckshot
to choke the unsuspecting throat,
and peaches whose centers hold
dark stones of cyanide.
This poem was featured in Barn Owl Review
and in the anthology A Face to Meet the Faces.
In Blackbird
Read my essay, "Notes Toward a Nonexistent Poet."
In Diagram
Read a "Fragment from a Nonexistent Yiddish Poet."
In Rattle
Read a review of From the Fever-World.
In Blackbird
Read a review of From the Fever-World.
Read an interview about From the Fever-World and my other projects.
