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Loving Ghazal
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Leaving home is like a needle poking through the cervix.
The numbing of love lost hums blackbirds into hypnosis.
I tucked my teeth into the creases of your hand,
Asked you to hide them until I was ready to eat again.
In the sockets of our eyes, we hide gold wedding bands.
We stuff our mouths with chocolate as we cross the border.
In Morocco, women carry hot coals in their bare hands.
Searching for water, they make fires along the way.
Loving a boy at seventeen is different.
I loved him so hard my spine slid through my back.
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Writer
Bio
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Amanda Leigh Lichtenstein is a poet, writer, and resident artist in the Chicago Public Schools. Her work has appeared in Primavera, The Comstock Review, The Evansville Review, After Hours, Stray Dog, Passionfruit, ACM Another Chicago Magazine), and Poetry Motel. A recipient of the 2002 Illinois Arts Council Finalist Award in Poetry, she conducts workshops on literary arts integration in urban schools. She has traveled extensively throughout Africa, the Middle East, Europe, and South America as a writer and literary arts educator.
alichtenstein@hotmail.com
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Other
Pedestal Published Works
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