Beth Lifson – 2 Poems

Beth Lifson

2 Poems

Babies in Mind

If I sit here long enough the bathwater will get thrown out of the bath and something may
occur with babies in mind.  Babies on the brain, on the mind of the baby is something
about the bath and the water is too cold to bathe in, the bathtub of sitting water and sitting
longer than the bath or the water is the place where I am always lingering, that place is no
longer the back of the house, no longer housed in the house, no longer longer than the
time spent bathing in the bathtub.  It drowns out the noise of outside, the back of the
house, the housed thoughts of one baby and the minds of one on the babies of another.
The lingering place, the back of the mind, the baby and bathwater both there and why
would someone throw out a baby like bathwater, what kind of slip is that, the tossing out
of both baby and water, how would you not notice something like that and toss out
thoughts of babies, throw away the back of the house, linger a moment before detailing
the getting rid of, the bathwater drained, the baby sent to Nanas, the longer place no
longer suitable for lingering and the name drained of its pace.  How one comes to forget
both baby and name, both bath and water, both front and back in place of one house,

Pedal Fast in the Race

The allure of an empty room, hotel, that is to say, I miss you in waves, connect the starch
white sky and streets related to each other, here, where bathing an art I can master.  No
one says goodbye like they used to, no one is here and all streetlamps bid forever turn
daylight the orange spokes of a bicycle.  Pedal fast in the race, dear foreigner.  There are
times alone when lunch is lonelier than the skyline from a hotel, sadder than miniature
soap and more forgiving than this dimly lit room where I stand away from the mirror,
look forward to home.

It rained in the room, Japan
That is to say, hotel &
Missed connect of train, umbrella –
Streetlamps, orange bicycles, bathing
An art I can master here alone
Eating lunch, lonely
As miniature soap, starch white.
Pedal fast in the race
Before daylight, forgive
This dim room its mirrors
Look toward home, I’ll say
Goodbye like you’re used to, dear foreigner
Relate sheets to the sky

Race, missed
Orange spokes
Starched white
Miniature skyline
Soaped fast.  Look
home, umbrellas
Japan rained dim
Bathed art, lonely lunch
Related foreign, master dear
streetlamps, dear daylight
forgive time

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