The Good Words Don't Burn

 Avigayil F "I lived through the golden age," I'm afraid I will say one day. “I saw it split apart at the seams—" At first, it was beautiful: sunlight streaming through the perforations. We thought it gilded plate armor— Only moth-eaten cloth of gold.

Avigayil Finkelstein July 2025   “Hearken now to the words of the king,” Proclaim the criers in every province, town, and city. “You are hereby summoned to a feast Where the king’s generosity will flow as wine— In a nearby chamber, a banquet hosted by the queen. Only a fool would choose to stay home.”   On the seventh day, with revelers crowding the perfumed gardens of his home, While his mind marinates in meat and mead, an idea comes to the king, Who struts before his satraps and subjects to summon his queen And parade her, stripped bare, before his decadent capital city. The idea seems wise to a king soused with wine. He longs to see her tread where eyes may feast.   Some time since that fateful feast A young girl turns back for a final glimpse of home. For there is no undoing a decision doused in wine. The law knows no regret, even if you are king. The girl hides inside herself, far from her home in the capital city. Farther ...

 GOOD FORTUNE Good fortune lies Beyond this golden gate If the past is bittersweet as tealeaves The future is as fresh as new parchment, like an empty chalkboard, waiting Something sweet as wild huckleberry Lies beyond this mountain peak ON THE ROAD The air is still as baby’s breath The rolling hills just a grass stain on the horizon The sun’s rays rise like a spotlight on this mountain town I'm an adventurer, out stalking a dragon And I want no ruby slippers to bring me home

  Avigayil F I am the nightmare you forget when you awake The shallow end of every sigh I am the reason that broken hearts break   When your pounding heart insists the waking world is fake That demons lurk in the shadows in the corners of your eye I am the nightmare you forget when you awake   I am desolation; I don’t give, I take Tell me—why do you even try? I am the reason that broken hearts break   Let your bones tremble, let your limbs quake But I tell you—there is nothing awry I am the nightmare you forget when you awake   The wanting inside you is wide as a lake But don’t you dare cry I am the reason that broken hearts break   I am the fear you cannot shake The tears you can never dry I am the nightmare you forget when you awake I am the reason that broken hearts break  

 Avigayil F I spoke my words into the wind, but the wind would not carry them. I sealed them into a bottle with an airtight cork and unbreakable glass, the ink still sharp as the day I wrote them— but they did not drift ashore. I inscribed my words in sand and stone, and some of them are still out there, etched into the walls of a forgotten building. And I thought of all the words that I had sent out into the world and wondered if it was enough to speak my words out loud, so that my soul could hear its own voice, and know itself.

 Yaffa Avigayil F In the softest shades of black and grey   The little girl rests in her father’s arms Astride the left breast of his charcoal-colored suit Checkered dress and mary-janes rounding Small toes Which swing in the air Her long, wispy hair disappears into his cropped tuft Slender arms reach out From white-capped sleeves One small hand wrapped around his neck The other folded in his firm grip Square jaw and rounded chin Gaze solemnly into the camera As two rows of trees converge in the distance On the open road   Their matching, Round, protruding ears Cannot hear the marching boot-steps Which will trample their pastoral quietude   I wonder if his wife snapped the photo Tzipporah And if her voice chirped like the bird she was named for As she called, “Moshe, Yaffa! Turn around and look at the camera!” And if she ever thought about that airy openness And the way the trees fanned out behind them As they huddled together in darkness Or when they again bl...