Sabine Equation

by Jaime Zuckerman

It is true that our mirrors
are infinite lakes,
though we see little
of their distances.

This is how echoes work: 
we call out and want to hear
our little sounds
bounce off solid rock.
Instead, we hear drowning, 
helpless again.
We dive in to rescue ourselves,
trumpets in our guts.
When we lay wet and new and panting,
we still feel the water
slipped around us,
hand around bone,
an arm reaching up from the green.
Once we'’ve forgotten,
it happens anew,
turn and trauma fresh.
It is true that we choose
one brand of loneliness
over another.


Don't you know sometimes
the world says its name to us? 
I have seen it myself in the quiet; 
the sky perfectly reflected here
at my feet.
                   Despite what we have done,
small things will regrow, pushing away
sandbags and filling ditches. We are just
passing through,
                the world indifferent to
our best disasters. This is what I fear
above the rest. 

Jaime reads "Sabine Equation" & "Able"


Jaime Zuckerman lives and teaches in Boston, MA. Her poetry is published or forthcoming in NAP, Melusine, and Right Hand Pointing. She assists with art direction for the online journal, Sixth Finch.