maelynslavik

my walk home.

the 4 p.m. sunset already lighting the shamash on the horizon,

melting the mountains like orange wax.

lunch with my friends, onion rings & coconut yogurt

So Sunday was the first night of Hanukkah 

And there are still cops 

Outside the synagogue 

And there are still people who look at us

With murder in their eyes

And there are still shootings 

when i was thirteen i held a wrapper in my hand 
covered in red white and blue lettering 
a tribute to the land you once loved dearly 

I went to work the day after they announced it. I stocked the shelves and listened to the radio from the speakers in the warehouse ceilings. Cars were piling up at the exits, trying to get out of town.

It's hard

to put yourself out there,

bear, exposed;

it's scary to take off your coat,

remove the mat,

and hang on limb over the edge of a cliff,

Will I fall?

Will the branch break?

I will be someday, 

gone, 

that is. 

When I am, 

I hope the pine needles still grow thick 

covered thick 

with snow.