Eleanor Lerman is the author of Our Post-Soviet History Unfolds, for which she won The Nation‘s 2006 Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize.
Two red drinks–pure alcohol, with a maraschino cherry–in
the bar next door, deep in the afternoon. While I hide in my
The scowl is caught in jadeite.
The flattened face on a green bead
displayed in the orchestral light of the museum
also boards the train on Steinway Street.
In the morning we put on our sharp blue suits and
go to hear the delegates speak through broken teeth.
These are the women whose names the press must be
Yes, indeed, that is my house that I am carrying around
on my back like a bullet-proof shell and yes, that sure is
my little dog walking a hard road in hard boots. And