Jonathan B. Aibel
Forsythia Pavilion
My father wanted to cut
the overgrown all wild.
I begged. A boy could find
under the arches a green
in hot summer perfect
for a covert club of one,
one who needed to see
without being seen, fingerleaf
stroking downy arms
to discover the sudden
wilderness growing
in the forest of his body.
Back to Issue XV…
Rachel Becker’s poetry recently appears or is forthcoming in journals including North American Review, Post Road, Rust + Moth, West Trade Review, Wild Roof, Crab Orchard Review, and RHINO. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Lesley University and is a poetry editor for Porcupine Literary: a journal by and for teachers. She lives in Boston.
