Valerie Bacharach: Night, Descending
Night explodes in fractures of shining glass.
Sidewalks hold storefront fragments,
deadly crystals glitter,
almost beautiful with still-red blood.
November 9, 2022 · 4 Comments
Valerie Bacharach: Passover
I lay a Haggadah by a chair,
unoccupied.
Unearth my Seder plate,
place upon it shank bone, egg, parsley,
bitter herbs. My bitter tears.
April 20, 2022 · 1 Comment
Valerie Bacharach: The Synagogue
Someone enters the sanctuary, picks up the chair
thrown by the Rabbi,
places it gently with the others, a straight row
waiting for bodies.
January 27, 2022 · 5 Comments
Valerie Bacharach: Elegy for Nathan
An addict is an actor, able to look you in the eye, smile, and lie so convincingly that you begin to question yourself.
February 21, 2021 · 6 Comments
Valerie Bacharach: Gratitude Journal
I was sure that I had failed my mother, unable to keep her in her home, as I had once promised.
December 29, 2020 · 6 Comments
Vox Populi 