Ethel RackinLet Song Birds Sing
when one is a stitch on a quilt made for an occasion occasionally it seems that that one is breath on wind, air trapped in circular garages or a condo which has been given up on (since those one loves have become photographs) or since it is my belief that I ultimately make the choice whether to stay ignore or let be it is I that must come back to the Italian restaurant of sighs and wonder how in the hell-- sitting in that easy chair your hand propped under your chin wearing the same Mikli glasses your cousin wears only trying to look bookish, brand new, and mean I mean what a bore to stare at a Newman painting and see yourself and your own ambition staring back meanwhile there are these bony leaves that make a wave, like, disappear! it's Saturday which stands for all Saturdays a song is a drug you tell yourself you need till need takes over and you really do
Ethel Rackin earned her MFA from the Milton Avery Graduate School of the Arts at Bard College. Her poems have appeared in Colorado Review, Poetry East, Volt, Brooklyn Review, and elsewhere. She teaches Creative Writing at Penn State's Delaware County campus.
