Elizabeth Kirschner: Time and Again
As the fire taught the house how to surrender, the dolls, they screamed, not me, oh they screamed like ashes that smelled of church pews.
Elizabeth Kirschner: Because the Sky is a Thousand Soft Hurts
Never forget how easily we love what survives to be loved.
Elizabeth Kirschner: Jones Beach
He went out. Into the ocean’s black maw. To save. To rescue. Didn’t, as they say, come back. Death is funny like that, precise, dissolute.
Elizabeth Kirschner: The Story of Benjamin
Early July, ninety degrees in the shade and me in the crook of my mother’s arms. She has her movie star sunglasses on, purple cat-eye glasses with iris-tinted lenses. … Continue reading
Elizabeth Kirschner: Bright as Guilt
Under the shadow of death, I drank my entire language, sucked the bones out of my hands. I drank until my bone marrow pickled and my eyes, their lids, turned … Continue reading
Elizabeth Kirschner: Parochial Pain
Screened-in porch. In summer. Orchard darkness in a fox pelt of woods. Quiet flat as a dime, as the Midwest itself. I rock, smoke cigarettes. The bead-heads of tobacco smell … Continue reading
Elizabeth Kirschner: Ice
Ice floes float down river, like a bas relief, or, or a lone grey monarch. I’m alone (in a junkyard of jumbo molars) adrift — Catastrophic bees, snow buzzes, drones … Continue reading
