JUST THIS by Lori Levy

No operas in my lungs today
or wild horses in my pulse.
No tight-lipped mouth or drooping frame.
No chin heavy in my palm.
Just arms laid lightly on the desk—
world in my window, blue and green.
Just these shadows on the lawn,
swan’s neck, rabbit ears.
Sun on a jade and white striped chair.
Just a leaf curled on the pavement, dead
or dying,
and wires stretched across the sky—
like a staff waiting for composers’ notes,
or a line of birds.
Just a taking in, a letting be,
a day held gently on the breast.

First published in Cumberland Poetry Review (Spring 2001)

Lori Levy’s poems have appeared in Rattle, Nimrod International Journal, Poetry East, and numerous other literary journals and anthologies in the U.S., the U.K., and Israel. Her work has also been published in medical humanities journals, and one poem was read on a program for BBC Radio 4. She lives in Los Angeles, but “home” has also been Vermont and Israel.