View Archives by:



Shira Dentz

Cup of coffee kept me awake last night.
Couldn’t stop twisting and turning, what
was happening wasn’t exactly dreaming
because I knew it was happening.
I knelt down in the courtyard, on the asphalt. There,
I saw the anklets of the children playing —
their bodies above the anklets cut off.
From below. I was below their level.
Children running — the anklets whirred by. And
I stopped frozen. The “beloved”? Arms
in short sleeves: the sleeve fabric like anklets
fresh on the skin. Dogs keep jumping at the
sun whether in windows or metal pans.

Shira Dentz

Read Bio

Author Discusses Poems