Separation
Rachel Heimowitz
“Rubbed from the world’s hard rubbing and the excess of everyday” —Ruth Stone
Perhaps this is all I will ever have
or what I should have held on to,
this rag flushed
into a bucket,
water grey with the dust
that aged our life.
How the soft cotton sinks
like a woman into a ritual bath
the last strands of hair succumbing
to the water’s pull, and my own hands following
taking, squeezing, watching the water fall back on itself,
my hands kneading the cloth
into some form I want:
clean floors, folded clothes, spices
lined on a rack. This house has lost its heartbeat
even as I unfold, flatten, run
this wet cloth over the floor again and again.
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Rachel Heimowitz’s work has appeared in Spillway, Crab Orchard Review, and Prairie Schooner. Her poems were nominated for the 2013 Pushcart Prize and her first chapbook, What the Light Reveals, is due out in 2014 from Tebot Bach Press. Rachel is currently an MFA candidate at Pacific University in Oregon.