ON THE ARCHITECTURE
workmen come to find me
back behind the old retreat
where we spoof the clinging children
and toughen up their feet
to finesse their eco-records
make uniform their hands
to show them any body
sways as it descends
I direct kids pointing
to bring stress to their skin
there has been so much impact
of wires inside this grass
that more delicate nerve-ends
fasten belts and sin
in a land still so well built
mocking birds call from the fence
and we visit the drilling station
where feelings waddle on pelts
______________________
ON THE ARCHITECTURE
fortunately no one is
also happy for me, this
pretty lady on a cruise,
I have come to believe
this land grows bulk
I sailed out because I heard
we were thinning
as more sofas amass
more people withstand
I arrive as a savior of martyrs
as I age out
of deserving rest
I invite into the room my smallness
you may also return to me
unsympathetic to standing
you can know me as sat
you can know me as I had luck here
as I wasn’t so seemly
or the ways I axed
apropos
____________________
ON THE ARCHITECTURE
more people
are denying
what they know
about the tides
what buds
have a blind spot
what network
alerts the eyes
wired for framing
what cruelty we caught
is there a real remedy
or any people allied
not knowing so keeping
inspections on file
rifling through collapses
to make it worth your while
___________________
ON THE ARCHITECTURE
what goes tacky in the body
when drilling has a hand
in making everyone listen
to growth and being grand
when drilling has to call us
back from the sad motel
to stick us to our stories
if that makes an amend
tell us we are unwelcome
to believe we comprehend
demands we end the wilting
demands we hold up our end
down again with the supple
if laughter has a gland
what goes quite that tacky
when we sag back to land
____________________
ON THE ARCHITECTURE
I can feel us folding
trading matters-of-fact
I have come to waddle
into an unsure act
what else was riding with us
when we went market-based
who was bringing the worthwhile
when we delivered rest
everyone was waiting
to have a guarantee
was anticipating adapting
to wires over the sea
___________________________________________________________
Leora Fridman is a writer, translator and educator living in Massachusetts. Her chapbook Precious Coast is forthcoming from H_NGM_N Books, and her chapbook of translations of Eduardo Milán is available from Toad Press. She is an MFA candidate at the UMass Amherst Program for Poets and Writers where she is Assistant Director of the Juniper Institute and co-curates the jubilat/Jones Reading Series.