• Sylvie Epstein

from Brookline

Updated: Mar 2

By Sylvie Epstein


The towns of the Eastern Seaboard like to call my name.

and gray plush on the passenger’s seat flashes with the passing of the pines

I have been to Somerville to look for your face painted onto brick or in the grass and in Bangor I search for you in the sky

As you sleep in bed, at home, I whisper in your ear I am the white clad arm behind pharmacy glass, I tell you

I am the clumsy fingertips bumping fingertips handing over receipts I pass packaged pills to boys in blue caps – like yours

I am the waitress in the bowling shirt serving grits on the hour I stop and search  for known, dear, lopsided smiles in crowds of strange round faces

I am sorry my mind is lost in these towns, I whisper

Is Danvers calling to you, my love?

In Ellsworth—my name—in bellowing echoes…

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