Rebecca Ruvinsky

 

Bitter Pith

Sweet luxury, storms filling the mouths

of the needy, of the rivers run dry. Choke

the alligators, steal their skin. Dam up

the lakes, more and more, for there is

rain and: here is magic. Take the fruits

of a land brimming with sunlight and

refuse — bite the lemon, suck the peel

and spit the seeds. They will grow,

even here.

*****

hypermobility & all my other abilities

 

when I turn my head: I shatter &

     see rainbow rictuses

drifting    beyond the grasp

            of their maker

 

                        & sometimes I wish I could snap

      my own neck

   so at least it wasn't

                     entitled to seize up, tense

                                               and burn

 

        & it’s not enough

to hear my heartbeat   in my fingers

until I choke in a one-time-use breath

         waiting for

                                  the lack

 

& yes if I walk too much

        I limp

shuffling my feet like I’m starting a tango,

Warrior-posing my way home

     remembering my doctor’s words:

          don’t sink into it

 

                                         (or else

                                         I’ll be left

                                         to the rubber-

                                         band-snap

 

                                         of impossibly        

                                                            letting go)

*****

We Interrupt This Broadcast to Bring You

 

 

that hundred-mile stretch

on i-95, human endlessness

 

and unlonely, meeting and leaving

spheres of forests, asphalt bulwarks

 

made of beauty and exhaust.

no exits upcoming, nothing left

 

in the tank. the ground keeps

spinning and spinning, onwards

 

moving, gleefully singing to the wind

that knows no lanes and drags

 

the cars across, collision at the turn

of the hand avoided, stations switching

 

till the silence of space is all

the receivers can find.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bio

Rebecca Ruvinsky is a student, poet, and emerging writer in Orlando, Florida. She has kept a streak of writing a poem every day since 2016, with work published or forthcoming in Prospectus: A Literary Offering, Sylvia Magazine, Underland Arcana, Funicular Magazine, From the Farther Trees, Capsule Stories, dreams walking, Floresta Magazine, and others. She loves baking cookies, watching rocket launches, and listening to music too loud.

 

Social Media

 R. Ruvinsky (@writeruvinsky) / Twitter