by JEREMY NATHAN MARKS
. . . that a lamp may be set to burn continually (Exodus 27:20)
A woman descending the stairs
passes beneath her transom window
Cut into cubes, her figure disperses
like sand across the bay.
Salted shingles, wooden gables and
streets of stone: this city is a mandala
of whalebone and oil.
Today it was also a lagoon.
The pilot light has gone out
and these matches at the hole
in the stove
Are two widows.
Jeremy Nathan Marks
Jeremy Nathan Marks is a writer, teacher, and researcher living in London, Ontario. His poetry and photography has been published in Lake, Up The Staircase Quarterly, The Blue Hour, Futures Trading Lit, Front Porch Review, Dove Tales, EgoPhobia, Proost Poetry Anthology, Eunoia Review, and The Electric Windmill Press.