Marianne Boruch

So someone climbed it. But now it’s dark. Now it’s neither street nor curb, sidewalk or yard, neither weed nor grass. But this thin outline, ladder against house, trace of the will to go up or no, earth is the welcoming place. I’m walki [...]

Lower floor. And it’s all about standing there at a bus stop with maybe my fidgety brother, or alone, years before, years of no car, when living in a city meant patience, repeatedly looking up the street. Without metaphor now, I’m here, on [...]

Rain, and fireworks every morning this week, a flaming bucket on one of the graves they keep throwing things into. So the family in white t-shirts bend and bow behind the young tree rioting pink blossoms. Hard to know exactly—except for their blue [...]

Long afternoons in bed, we loved to talk about the woman on the el, remote as a rabbit and that intense, who froze at every stop until the train leapt up and knocked us back. But she'd lunge forward in her seat, pedal in a fury we never biked with, e [...]

Each of us had an angel. I say that now without doubt. What does one say to an angel, I thought, I who never had a thought, going home the street suddenly unreal with both of us walking. Ahead, the bigger boys hurled stones and shouted. Their angels [...]