February 2019
I live with my husband, our two cats, and too many books and CDs in a smallish house in the suburbs of Washington, DC. Many of those CDs are jazz, but not all are. We are also trying to live without a car (although Lyft helps us out in a pinch). Recently Pski's Porch published my book On the Other Side of the Window. I am also the editor of The Song Is..., a blog-zine for poems and prose inspired by music. Please come visit my site! https://thesongis.blogspot.com
NOTE: This poem is a "five-four," a form invented by Tad Richards, who taught it to me.
NOTE: This poem is a "five-four," a form invented by Tad Richards, who taught it to me.
Facing Worcester
Myself a compass
needle, I face
north towards my birthplace,
the antique
hospital on one
of seven hills
in the city of spas,
piazzas,
parlors, and tonic,
words no one uses
anymore. I face Rice Square’s
African
cloth stores, bodegas,
and Indian
fonts on bags of rice and
red lentils,
remembering the
Polish nuns who
fought Grampy on how to
say his name.
I face the city
of Water Street,
barrels of dill half-sours,
Kosher soap,
hipsters’ whiskey bars.
Originally published in Write Like You're Alive's anthology for 2018.
© 2019 Marianne Szlyk
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to tell him or her. You might say what it is about the poem that moves you. Writing to the author is the beginning of community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -FF