Poetry by Liz Axelrod
Eclipse
These stories give
the impression
of being dark
even when
they are light
People have a way
of bending truth
like pottery and
pruning plants
When I got to the party
I did not feel relieved
I did not feel special
I did not feel
like blending in
Climb too high
and you might
find yourself
lost in clouds
circling the moon
the birds are flying
but silent
As if a glass
of champagne
could wash away
this darkness
These stories give
the impression
of being dark
even when
they are light
People have a way
of bending truth
like pottery and
pruning plants
When I got to the party
I did not feel relieved
I did not feel special
I did not feel
like blending in
Climb too high
and you might
find yourself
lost in clouds
circling the moon
the birds are flying
but silent
As if a glass
of champagne
could wash away
this darkness
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Liz Axelrod received her MFA from the New School in 2013. Her work has been published in Yes Poetry, The Rumpus, The Brooklyn Rail, Electric Literature, The Ampersand Review, Wicked Alice by Dancing Girl Press, Counterpunch.com, and more. Her Chapbook "Go Ask Alice" (June 2016) was chosen as a finalist in the Finishing Line Press New Woman's Voices Competition. She is an indie book reviewer for Kirkus Reviews, writer for LunaLuna Magazine, co-host and curator of the Cedarmere Reading Series in the home of William Cullen Bryant, and an Adjunct English Professor at SUNY Westchester Community College & NYC College of Technology. Liz is currently working on ways to capture light and focus it forward in poetry and prose. She uses the moon as her compass and revels in incandescence.
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