Zimri Borgman
PLAYING AT POETRY
playing at poetry
(she killed a sunrise
with her thumb); grinned
put her hands just above
the horizon and said
she was holding the whole world
before she died (buried
in sandals,
as requested)
‘memory’
the field is on fire
with mist.
dawn
scraped the night clean.
i kept a piece of it
in each eye –
a candle
on a broad ocean.