by Anne Koplin | May 2, 2016 | Life, Poetry
Steady Hand The Bris. The celebration of removal of foreskin The first of his covenants with our Creator Not in the presumed sterility of hospital walls But done in one’s home surrounded by family and deli Some choose to step back Shout out the obligatory...
by Anne Koplin | Aug 9, 2015 | Poetry
[two_columns_one] [/two_columns_one] [two_columns_one_last] He’s got it right, the friend who wrote about a woman wearing a man’s shirt, the way she can pull his scent to her and feel his arms around her again. I think a man likes to see a woman dressed in his shirt:...
by Anne Koplin | Aug 9, 2015 | Poetry
Black night, sliver of moon making no promise. The small sliver, barely noticed by humans sheltered in their homes. If it seeps into their field of vision, they may glance from their heated hibernation. Tell a stranger on the street to look up at the moon and they...
