by Kimberly Glanzman
now is the winter
after the war. we dissent
with the sunrise, wreck
our hands in frozen furrows,
weigh the taste of dirt-crowned ginger
against the hollow
sounds that surface, sprout like weeds
from within our throats.
Kimberly Glanzman was a finalist for the 2019 Stella Kupferberg Memorial Short Story Prize, and a 2020 Pushcart Nominee. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Sky Island, Sleet Magazine, Jet Fuel, Pretty Owl Poetry, South Dakota Review, Harpur Palate, Iron Horse, Puerto del Sol, and Electric Lit, among others. Find her at kimberlyglanzman.com