Resurrection by Lisa Zaran

Silent afternoon, nothing unusual
with the weather except a possible
chance of rain. Probably not.

I wash my car anyhow.
An entire world portraits itself
outdoors. Children hustle past
with little faces like thumbprints
on Gods memory.

I roll up the pant legs of my jeans,
get to the gladness of bubbles, white foam
on a red automobile. Think about the cost
of things. My daughters schooling, my sons
habits. My husbands countenance, even though

countenance is such an old fashioned word.
I practice thinness. Pretend to be so far gone
that even those who've never taken the time to notice,
notice me. How thin she is, they might exclaim.
I hardly recognize her elements.

I think I'll grow up now. Stop pretending
I am so far gone that love is an awkward myth.
I know it exists, can blossom
in bones so old, the body surrounding them
might burst into color
like a rose.

Take away love and our earth is a tomb, Browning wrote.

The scene now after the rain: children reemerge
as the chorus of their voices
sound like thunderclaps, faces shine
through broken clouds.

No chance of desultory weather.
No spot on redemption.
In my grief I think I'll re-wash my car.


Lisa Zaran, Arizona, USA

Public Education by Lisa Zaran

Look how lovely the children are
sitting in their classroom,
staring at the wall, the clock
on the wall, out the window
where the breeze has been
masturbating with the leaves
all morning.

See their little round and yellow
faces. This one with crooked
teeth trying not to fall asleep
and that one over there, his
wooden desk pulled front toward
the wall. Are those matches
he has in his hand? How sweet.

Notice as well their teacher.
Almost like a zombie isn't she?
Slack expression, tired hair,
voice droning with the flies.
I bet she does this on purpose.
Maybe her students like boredom,
she should win teacher of the year.

I wonder what they're learning,
their minds are open doors you know,
anyone can walk through.
Maybe how to be the next President
of the United States. Imagine that!
Maybe how to start the next world war.


Lisa Zaran, Arizona, USA

It's Been a Rotten Millennium by Lisa Zaran

His absence makes my presence
in the world seem artless and obsolete.
I sift and sort through memories,
the scuttle of pigeons across my mind,
labor without delivery-
sweeping the broken floor
of my heart, convinced
somewhere I will find a remaining
piece of his love, a shard of glass
that I can use to cut myself.


Lisa Zaran, Arizona, USA