Issue 11 | Summer 2012

Mozhel Bovitz

My Mother never sent anyone to hell
what did she know of hell instead
she sent them back to Mozhel Bovitz

the place they had obviously come from
Mozhel Bovitz where the plain girls of Minsk

are sent to learn how to be homely and where
the simple boys of Pinsk serve out their
apprenticeship at being lifelong fools Mozhel

Bovitz where the delicacies of the table are never
inedible just beside the point where the Mayor

digs ditches and the tailor goes naked
where my uncle of blessed memory had a job
shoveling gold nuggets and died owing the undertaker

Filed under: Poetry