• Carly Feinman

Day 19- 10.5.20

Today is everything, really

Today my mother turned fifty-nine

in three face masks and goggles

in the waiting room of a suburban hospital.

As her own mother sat alone in a paper gown

five stories up, she checked her work emails,

took a few deep breaths, and was promptly told

she was not permitted to go up--not today.

In a daydream, a seagull lent me her wings

and I soared over burning forests, the great ocean,

mountain ridges, and fields and fields of wheat

to deliver a hug gooier than honey

to the both of them.

15 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Day 78- 11.3.20

Cezar Chavez Park I. The bay pulls up on the coastal rocks like a car that’s finally found a parking spot which is to say easily and with great gratitude. II. Each ripple coming towards the yellowed g

Day 77- 12.2.20

It is terrible To wake in the night and immediately know this is it for a while, until dawn, until your corner of the world collectively wakes many hours from now-- this waiting, this staring at the c

Day 76- 12.1.20

a Haiku for Sara She passed in the night with a peace so deep and true it had to be earned.