my throat hurts
perhaps a scream
withheld
a knotted grief
I’ve listened to
my morning meditation
a man pushes his walker
past my table
moving forward
past all he has endured
*
Eva Eliav received her BA in English Language and Literature from The University of Toronto. Since 1970 she has made her home in Israel. She is the author of two poetry chapbooks: Eve (Red Bird Chapbooks, 2019) and One Summer Day (Kelsay Books, 2021). A new chapbook is forthcoming in 2025 from Red Bird. Her poetry and flash fiction have appeared in numerous literary journals, including Room, Emrys Journal, JewishFiction.net, Ilanot Review, Flashquake, The Apple Valley Review, Horizon Review, Variant Lit, Luna Station Quarterly, Fairy Tale Magazine, Stand, Constellations, Minyan, Fictive Dream, Gyroscope Review, MacQueen’s Quinterly, Rogue Agent, Dust, Thimble, The Lake Magazine, ONE ART, Panoplyzine, and The Ginosko Review. You can find a selection of her poetry, fiction, and art at www.evaeliav.com.
You captured so much in so few, well-chosen words. So powerful.
A lot to unpack in this shorter poem. Nice work!!