Liz Marlow

CHAIM RUMKOWSKI ENVISIONS THE MOON AS A GENTILE WOMAN

A galaxy of fireflies 
blinks over algae
fingers, reaching through
a pond full of her, 

attracting a mate.
I cup my hands, keeping 
one to myself. When it
tries to leave me, I tear

chiffon wings—saving 
the lighthouse in a jar. 
I imagine scooping 
fish scales of the Moon— 

filling a ceramic bowl,
drinking. Then I stash 
her under the bed—
avoiding my family 

sitting shiva for me—
no covering 
mirrors, no drawing 
curtains. She is my 

reflection. She is my 
telescope lens. When 
she hides her face 
in darkness, 

I wonder which crime 
the Earth committed 
to deserve her 
shadows.

Liz Marlow's debut chapbook, They Become Stars, was the winner of the 2019 Slapering Hol Press Chapbook Competition. Additionally, her poems have appeared in The Bitter Oleander, Permafrost, Minnesota Review, Tikkun, Valparaiso Poetry Review, and elsewhere. She earned her MFA from Western Michigan University and MBA from the University of Memphis. Currently, she lives in Memphis, Tennessee with her husband and two children. 

Please visit her at: http://www.lizmarlow.com