Friday, October 8th, 2010
“Metro, January 8″ by Lyn Lifshin
Lyn Lifshin METRO, JANUARY 8 across the rails, the man with long black hair and flashing eyes and a smile I’d have found devastating as the blond on his neck, voice full of flamenco and Lorca, castanets. She is as pale as he is darkly onyx, skin a creamy caramel. “I’ve seen you, yes often,” [...]
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Friday, February 12th, 2010
“Lips” by Lyn Lifshin
Lyn Lifshin LIPS Yours, honey, were so perfect, a little rosebud mouth, not those puffed up blubbery things, my mother says when I pointed out the models’ collagen petals. “Roses,” my mother always says, “that’s what yours were, a nice tiny nose. That’s from your father. One good thing. Not a big ugly one like [...]
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Saturday, July 26th, 2008
“Being Jewish in a Small Town” by Lyn Lifshin
Lyn Lifshin BEING JEWISH IN A SMALL TOWN someone writes kike on the blackboard and the “k’s” pull thru the chalk, stick in my plump, pale thighs. Even after the high school burns down the word is written in the ashes. My under pants’ elastic snaps on Main St because I can’t go to Pilgrim [...]
