I live in New York City where I enjoy art classes, plays, and concerts. Lucky me. Since retiring as a professor of French language and literature, I have published four poetry collections. The fifth, to one who bends my time, forthcoming from Deerbrook Editions later this year, will contain the following poems.
On a line from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 81
“When all the breathers of the world are dead…”
After love, she gets a stuffy nose.
Is she alone in this
or are there others? What to choose?
Deprive herself of bliss
and freely breathe, or proceed
and nearly smother?
Oh, skip it. There is no free
lunch. No free pleasure
either. She would behave
more chastely if the danger
were a mortal one
for her or for her lover.
But the risk is slight.
She’ll live with it. Good night.
Reading the Torah With You
We watch Him sort things out
though, around Him, all is dark.
He brings light, preserving shadow
as a frame for stars and moon.
He turns the waters on, leaving
dry soil for gophers, dogs,
and squirrels. Two humans watch
the creatures swim, swarm, scamper,
crawl, and climb. Six days
begin and end. The Maker looks
and finds them good. The sun
is down. Our limbs are blind.
We intertwine them to become
the man and woman in the Book.
©2017 Sarah White
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