- My Mother's Yarzheit
I love her yet. Each layer veils anotherof pure dog-eaten lace.
Her mottled chest slopes like mineto small breasts, nipplesdark as mahogany
through a frayed gown. Here she isshe who disappearedyears ago, though
to tell the truth, I felt her in my breathand everywhere as cloudsover my ghost-crowded bed rains. [End Page 73]
I pretended all was well, convinced myselfbut now I'm securedby twine of my own spinning.
Her voice returns pricks my veins,enters. She's dancingon the front stoop
away from the dogs that nip her tiny ankles.Lift me, she calls,in your tall arms,
so I can blow kisses in your ear [End Page 74]
First girl called to the bima in her Baltimore synagogue—a joyful, independent pattern set. Study in an egalitarian chavurah, consciousness raising, arguing with the text, outrage ... all shape her life's work: teaching, writing, parenting. Lee's poems and reviews have appeared in Quarterly West, the Gay & Lesbian Review, Phoebe, Berkshire Review, Magma, Chronogram, Passager, Women & Environments, and others. Her chapbook, Weeds, was published by Finishing Line Press.