Lit Mags
I Remember the Drowning Years
Two poems by Josh Lefkowitz
I Remember the Drowning Years
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Landscape with Self-Actualization
after Bruegel’s Landscape with the Fall of Icarus
Let’s start with the horse: sometimes,
especially when working, I’m the horse,
as well as the ploughman whipping the horse
Too much time online and I become
the shepherd with his back turned,
arms folded into a firm no-thank-you
I really like when I’m the dog, loyal
only to my basic canine needs:
companionship, kibble, a bone
Sure, I’ve been the flock of sheep
led around to this place or that –
too much time online does that
Now, once – years ago – I became
the harbored city in the distance
and had to travel great lengths to find myself
Likewise, I have also been white mountains
to the east, cold and mysterious –
but since taking Lexapro, less so
Most days these days I’m the hatted fisherman
seated in the corner with a cup of coffee,
waiting for a bite, from a bass, or an angel
But yes, I guess, if forced to admit
(and I don’t like to talk much about this)
I do remember the drowning years
When everyone else seemed a full-sailed ship
and I was underwater with loss –
broken. From which I got up, dried off,
and lived all this life that came after
Pallbearers
The grandkids were tasked
with carrying her casket
I nodded and waved to Zoe
from the other side of the body
It was awfully heavy
the box I mean but the moment too
Teary-eyed Zoe, sixteen,
all youth and bloom
On Z’s left hand
written in pen: Hot Pockets
Cuz, I whispered over our grandmother,
why does it say Hot Pockets
To remind myself, she replied,
that I like Hot Pockets
We laughed –
We were sad, and we laughed –
The great inheritance
