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