Three Poems by Eve Lyons

Stolen Camera

Published in Nest of Vipers in Fall 2000

A poem can't capture a vacation,
not really. Neither can the eighteen pictures
of San Fran Gay Pride you stole from me, not knowing
you won't get much cash for that old camera
my grandfather dragged out of his
bottom dresser drawer. Certainly those eighteen pictures
can't capture the ACLU's chant "We sue so you can screw!"
or the weird tension I felt with her,
knowing she and I have considered but never gone there.
Those photos could never capture the two hours
she and I spent discussing the Holocaust, domestic
violence, and sociological reasons for serial killers.
What is a photo album, really,
but simply a collection of names
I'm afraid I'll forget, and places
I'm afraid I'll never return to.
Yes, my memory fails, but I don't really want
to memorialize every single person
who ever touched my life.
The ones who are meant to stick, will.
As for the rest, it's best to just remind
myself that they touched me, softly,
when I wasn't sure what to expect.
And if I see them in next year's Gay Pride,
or perhaps outside a cafe in Jerusalem,
then I'll realize
I don't need those eighteen snapshots.

Grieving for Phoebe

Published in the Houston Literary Magazine, September 2010

I have been watching Phoebe

the California hummingbird

along with four thousand other people on the internet.

She's battled a lizard, a crow, and her own biology and not winning

the battle of late. Her last brood of two would be labeled "failure to thrive"

if the Department of Children and Families paid house visits to birds.

Her most recent eggs are dead –

one discarded from her nest by Phoebe herself

after its stench attracted the lizard

The other one left to finish decomposing in the nest

while she flitted away to mourn.

Do birds grieve? I feel her grief

but perhaps that's just like Elliot feeling E.T.'s grief

in that movie that made me sob,

which my mother is convinced traumatized me,

just one more piece of a mother's guilt.

There are so many reasons to feel guilty and inadequate as parents

and even before we become parents.

Knowing which ones are true is the hardest part.

Her third attempt yielded better results

One egg hatched and the chick fledged without issue

The other hatched but the chick was startled from the nest

By the strong black wings and rawwk rawwk of a crow.

The chick’s whereabouts are unknown

I remain hopeful she is safe

Hopeful for my own eggs.

Faith

Published in Contemporary World Literature, February 2011

I envy them

their faith so clear,

their path pre-destined,

uncomplicated.

I see them

walking to and from shul

wearing their black hats

black blazers

white shirts

and peiyot.

I see the women in the supermarket

They always looks serene

even with four children in tow,

even without access to the Torah

where, for me,

the excitement is.

I understand the appeal

Jonah saw in their life

Yet it seems so far away,

so impossible.

I too went to Israel

studied with the Orthodox,

heard the urgency to make aliyah.

Yet I walked away

knowing if I didn't,

it would reject me.

Whether because of the woman

by my side

or her Catholic upbringing,

or my own father’s

lack of membership in this club,

one way or the other

I would be rejected.

There can be no faith

without acceptance.

There can be no acceptance

without faith.

Eve Lyons is a poet and fiction writer living in the Boston area. Her work has appeared in Lilith, Literary Mama, Hip Mama, Mutha Magazine, Word Riot, Dead Mule of Southern Literature, as well as other magazines and several anthologies. Eve’s first book of poetry is due out in May of 2020 by WordTech Communications.

DDBMay 8, 2020Comment