Published on April 15th, 2013 | by Rachel Ervin


“Sand” & “Notes on a Brooklyn Crucifixion” by Rachel Ervin


In the summer sanctuary of my youth,
our freckled faces and rippled wrists;
our brown-skinned backs and makeshift suits
staggered around the aggregate pool.

The steam of a Sunday dip drenching our towels was baptism;
the tin-can laughter of uncles and beer was our verse.

Summer desert days, like a spigot stuck open.
Furniture-fueled bonfires running into mariachi, running
into midnight dancing, running into
passed out children around the pool.

Those steamy days meant water
when the rest of our year meant thirst;

when we spilled sand from every crevice
and our chapel returned to dust.



Notes on a Brooklyn Crucifixion

The look on her face says,
I am not willing.
A palm upraised, with blood:

Queen of the Jews.

The city birds sit, sentient,
in praise of smog and light
and smokestacks black.

Each cover requires sacrifice. And so
the wife, like a pink robe,
awaits her bridegroom;

faceless, nameless.
An answer in silence.

Featured image, Bird of a Cherry Brancha photogram by Virna Haffer courtesy of the Tacoma Public Library Image Archives.

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About the Author

Rachel Ervin

Co-Managing Editor, freelancer of everything, UWTacoma alumna, parent, partner, lover of beans. You can follow her thoughts on feminist weather patterns @RacheErvKorbski.

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