Two Poems by Yvette Neisser

on

|

views

and

comments

Ode to the Analog Age

Praise the newspaper
tossed each morning
by a boy on a bicycle,
ink of newsprint,
thinness of paper.

Praise phone booths
where we waited in line
and paid with quarters,
praise the long cord
and rotary dialing.

Praise the typewriter
and white-out,
the encyclopedia
in 20 volumes.

Praise dipping pen in ink,
the flourish of handwriting,
perfumed stationery,
the stamp and the post office,
waiting days or weeks
for a response.

Praise the library of books,
the card catalog and microfiche,
a place of hush.

Praise the record player,
placing the needle by hand
into just the right groove.

Praise paper maps,
finding streets by letter and number,
finger tracing square by square.

Praise knocking on doors
to visit neighbors.

Praise the mystery.
Praise the tactile.


Contours

I run from the house

then feel lost and seek it again

comfort of home
the one place I know

I seek smooth waters
tilled earth

a rhythm to the day

century-old trunks
thick bark to lean on

a cradle
a hammock

a place of stillness
crevice to call my own

contours to hold me


Yvette Neisser is an award-winning poet, Spanish translator, and founder of the DC-Area Literary Translators Network (DC-ALT). Her latest collection is “Iron into Flower” (Finishing Line, 2022), and her co-translation of Venezuelan poet Maria Teresa Ogliastri’s “From the Diary of Madame Mao” won the 2025 Carnegie Mellon University Press Translation Prize and will be published in 2026. Her poems, translations, and essays have appeared in Foreign Policy in Focus, Tikkun, Virginia Quarterly Review, Split This Rock’s The Quarry, and 101 Jewish Poems for the Third Millennium (anthology). When she’s not writing, Yvette enjoys nature, yoga, dancing, traveling, and resisting fascism. She lives in Silver Spring, MD.

Share this
Tags

Must-read

Two Poems by Jamilah Ali

Do Black People Speak a Foreign Language?Hell to the no. You told me 50 years agoDonna Reed cannot translate jive into Wonder BreadUnderstood soft...

Homemade Saints by Bliss Goldstein

You’ve forgotten the names of your homemade saintswho crowd in the dark behind your thin lids.In the veil you’ve drawn betweenHere and Not Here, they...

The Opposite of Gaslighting by Sunu P. Chandy

*With gratitude to all who contributed to this crowd-sourced list poem following my social media inquiry I’m so sorry that happened to you.It makes sense...
spot_img

Recent articles

More like this

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here