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Lisa Gluskin
was born in Stockton, California, and has earned degrees from
Yale University and the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson
College. After working as a technical editor, arts magazine
publisher, gift wrapper, film studio gofer, and cocktail waitress,
she now makes her living as a freelance
writer and editor. Her work has received a Javits fellowship,
a James Duval Phelan Award, and a Pushcart Prize nomination.
Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in journals including
The Iowa Review, Blackbird, ZYZZYVA, Michigan Quarterly
Review, 32 Poems, Mississippi Review, Bellingham Review,
and The Cortland Review, and in the anthology Best
New Poets 2005. She lives in San Francisco, where lately
she's been writing poems about theoretical cosmology and junior
high school.
Other
poems:
Email
Lisa
Gluskin
at lisa@ampedit.com
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DE
PROFUNDIS
out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord
—more like out of the middle, the soft
chewy center of here: the mailbox,
the toaster, the dentist office: I cry
to you, or to nothing, I whisper
and roll my eyes: Oh, lord.
O Lord. Forgive us
our dailiness, our lists of lists.
The gearshift work, the newspaper cutouts,
coupons and cashback in the slow lane.
Whiteboard, whiteout. Little yellow
notes everywhere like moths.
Oh, lord. Remember
us, here: the soft warm milky middle,
its erasing breath, its easy arms. Here
where we lie, mostly and meanwhile.
First
published in 32 Poems, Spring 2004. Copyright ©
Lisa Gluskin
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