estrangement
Poetry by Sara Kass Eifler
there is a breach, here
under the trees blooming icicles, growing snow like moss
a place where your heart runs perpendicular to mine
in the library of our intertwining
wedged between two silken screens
a firefly, blinking
on again: we are reaching
off again: we have come too close
and always the snow around us falling
when the snapping of your sibilant heart
bisects the syrup of my sticky skin
where I pause in the running
and you, in the sinking
where in the scraping, in the dawn
in the sunken white relief
I am supple, you are gleaming
and we are both here after all
under the trees blooming icicles, growing snow like moss
a place where your heart runs perpendicular to mine
in the library of our intertwining
wedged between two silken screens
a firefly, blinking
on again: we are reaching
off again: we have come too close
and always the snow around us falling
when the snapping of your sibilant heart
bisects the syrup of my sticky skin
where I pause in the running
and you, in the sinking
where in the scraping, in the dawn
in the sunken white relief
I am supple, you are gleaming
and we are both here after all
About the Writer
Sara Kass Eifler is a queer vegan Jewish woman with an abiding interest in poetry, folklore, and sacred story. She lives on Cape Cod with her partner.
