ISSUE 48
August 2010

Sarah Green

 

This marks an author's first online publication Sarah Green is the recipient of a 2009 Pushcart Prize. Her poetry has appeared in the Gettysburg Review, Passages North, Redivider, FIELD, and other magazines. In addition to teaching at Emerson College, she leads writing workshops at 826 Boston, a literacy center for youth 8-18.

Shabbat    

We sat across from one another:
me strapped in

for bicep curls, him straddling
a bench, lifting dumbbells—

show-off—veins on his neck
standing out. Maybe an hour before

sundown. Sweat at my back, my
jaw sore from a face I made

without meaning to. What made that
day holy, or at least no

threat, compared to the night
we read side by side—first shoulders,

then knees accidentally
touching? His room

went dark while we turned pages
in that desert book. His father’s

photo looking down. His sister
singing on a record

that I never got to hear. We didn't
break one rule. But I remember

he splashed water on his face, turning
away from me, reaching for a towel.


 

 

Sarah Green: Poetry
Copyright ©2010 The Cortland Review Issue 48The Cortland Review