Walking Barefoot, August

By GAIL MAZUR

The flats mid-morning.
Fussy little house-hunting hermit crabs.

Razor clams, skate eggs, black mussels.
Sea glass frosted by the tides.

Far out, schooners, racers, sloops—
Serenity of their white white sails.

Day moon, round, faint, almost transparent,
Hovering in the pale blue sky,

In its orbit still so near the sun.

Seven years alone by the bay.

An old friend, a neighbor, stumbling,
Has lost her way on the sands.

There’s always tomorrow.
There’s always something left to lose.

Something here is blowing bubbles.
Something’s forever burrowing.

 

Gail Mazur has published seven collections of poetry. They Can’t Take That Away from Me was a finalist for the National Book Award. Zeppo’s First Wife: New and Selected Poems was the winner of The Massachusetts Book Prize and a finalist for both the Los Angeles Times Book Prize and the Paterson Poetry Prize. 2016’s Forbidden City is her most recent collection. Her poems have been widely anthologized, including in several Pushcart Prize anthologies, Best American Poetry, and Robert Pinsky’s Essential Pleasures. A graduate of Smith College, she has received fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Bunting Institute of Radcliffe College, and the Radcliffe Institute. She was, for twenty years, Distinguished Senior Writer in Residence in Emerson College’s graduate program and now teaches in Boston University’s MFA program and at the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, where she has served for many years on the Writing Committee.

[Purchase Issue 18 here.]

Walking Barefoot, August

Related Posts

Skyline with buildings.

Translation: Two Poems by Edith Bruck

EDITH BRUCK
Pretty soon / When people hear a quiz show master / Talk about Auschwitz / They’ll wonder if they would have guessed / That name / They’ll comment on the current champion / Who never gets dates wrong / And always pinpoints the number of dead.

Chinese Palace

Portfolio from China: Poetry Feature I

LI ZHUANG
In your fantasy, the gilded eaves of Tang poked at the sun. / In their shadow, a phoenix rose. / Amid the smoke of burned pepper and orchids, / the emperor’s favorite consort twirled her long sleeves. / Once, in Luo Yang, the moon and the sun shone together.

Xu sits with Grandma He, the last natural heir of Nüshu, and her two friends next to her home in Jiangyong. Still from Xu’s documentary film, “Outside Women’s Café (2023)”. Image courtesy of the artist.

Against This Earth, We Knock

JINJIN XU
The script takes the form of a willow-like text, distinctive from traditional Chinese text in its thin shape and elegance. Whenever Grandma He’s grandmother taught her to write the script, she would cry, as if the physical act of writing the script is an act of confession.