A Poem by Tejan Green Waszak

Distant Dreamers

 

This bridge crumbles behind me

as I race swiftly to the other side

No time to look back

though in my haste

I dare

to look down at the water

and imagine

a more

honorable battle

ending in the belly of a mammal

whose respect I’ve gained

for my tireless effort

though tragically

this will

in the body

of one with more might

may have a different

outcome

Obviously

I am no match for you

In this complicated game

there is no end

and you are receding

Further and further

some force pushes you out

into the dark

night on night skin

the air

intensifies

filled

with

salty suffocation

Mouth agape

requesting answers

there are none

You never dare ask

rejection is looming

You are slipping away

In the silence

your face shines brilliantly

for a moment

there is pleasure

a chance

to study you

In another city we could be strangers

pretend

we are innocent

Your noble face

could go quite far

in another place

Tendering

 

 

 

Tejan Green Waszak is a New York based writer, educator and doctoral student. She received an MFA in Creative  Writing from Long Island University and a BA in Journalism from Hunter College. She can often be found consulting with writers about their work in the writing center of Columbia University.

A Poem by Catherine Weiss

Deflation

 

I used to love the tides,

The taste of chilled salt air,

And the granite boulders scattered along the shoreline

Like dice cast in a glacial game of craps.

But there came a morning when

I looked for the ocean and I saw nothing but

Miles of seaweed shining in the sun,

Deflated.

I picked my way down the slope past the low tide mark

Where I swam the week before,

Now stepping carefully rock to rock.

A mackerel flapped at my feet,

The smacking sound too loud.

I stood with the fish

Until it was still.

 

“You disgust me,”

He said on the last night we spent together.

I sat on the floor and did not cry.

Later, the apology swooped in like a vaudeville hook,

But true things linger.

 

Tectonic plates drag apart

So slowly.

Solid rock splits unnoticed until

Continents are separated by an ocean

So vast the far coast is

Invisible.

 

The sun was hot and

The fish was dead.

Pebbles and silt underfoot

Warm and sharp,

Black grit between my toes.

I could hear the armored legs of a crab

Tottering towards the trench ahead.

It disappeared over the edge

And I followed.

Climbing down the cliffside,

Hand over hand,

The wall slick,

Damp algae underneath my fingernails.

The abyss was drained of sea-water and

The fall, when it came, was infinite.

 

 

 

Catherine Weiss is a poet and author living in Northampton, MA.  In her spare time she enjoys ping pong, monopoly, and audiobooks.  Her website with more info can be found at http://catherineweiss.com.