r i g h t  h a n d  p o i n t i n g

 short poetry  short fiction   short...uh..art
 

 

     
  Lynn Strongin

Dark Swiss Rain

 

 
A hard week it’s been:

Jewish people don’t have open coffins:

Doris told her siblings stories in churchyards:
the voice becomes mezzo
dropping an octave.

How to comfort the young thing? 
There is a garment-like folding in,
              round, & above:     
              after the mortal shove  some solace in love:
Every wave finds its sea, every sorrow its grave.
 

 

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