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ELIZABETH SWITAJ

My work has appeared in several small press journals, and I hold an MFA in poetics and creative writing from New College of California. Currently, I live and teach English in Japan's Tochigi Prefecture.

SWAMP OPHELIA

The hands that crushed    rhododendrons I dried

now drown between    breathing reeds,

                                    breathing     peat

                                                                  fish bounce beneath

                                                                                       still  but bubbled lake.

Your hands filtered my closet, thought

only lovers’ blooms could last

fifteen years           (by gold on box

and it was heartbreak.  His heart

coffeemaker on             getting ready for school.

I won’t say     teacher or father-- too late

 just breathe.

CLIFF DWELLER

  All day I teach  other women’s children

Hell

        doesn’t come over hills.  At night

I climb my fire escape and

I’m not so sure     when sky bruises

over cliff rechristened tombs.

SHOPPING MALLS AND (FOR FIFTEEN HUNDRED YEN)

Intimate parking garages

don’t even have walls.

It’s all in your head

       and space above

copyright © Elizabeth Switaj