Spotlight: Shadow

late night fireplace hiss; you bury yourself in rumpled quilts; woolen sanctums for


circling your callused chest is a prison and epiphany— mouths and pectorals make

a reckless truce

to learn the metaphors of symmetry.

we slipped one quarter in love and the rest in snow;

our crumbling house is beige-mess of carpet string, leather sofa stains,

the lacquer of old tears.


no power over knots in unwashed hair;

your back’s galaxy of freckles and skin tags;

years appear to fall in a mute rain,

our falling skin, two skeletons worn on the outside.

we are what we forget: expired lipstick and cigarette smoke.

nothing left in battery-charged eyes

to deny the tar, sticky sweat of ourselves—

throbbing, cluster of atoms,

an illusion of fire.


Maayan AveryMaayan Avery is a nineteen-year-old aspiring writer, born in Los Angeles and living in Jerusalem, Israel. She received an Editor’s Choice award for poetry from Teen Ink magazine and is part of the local Jerusalem Poetry Slam group. Maayan is a philosophy enthusiast with a passion for all forms of art. Find daily one-line poems on Twitter: @MaayanAvery.