Star Magnolia

By Mimi Plevin-Foust

Tonight I wish someone else was my poet
someone who could narrow her eyes
at my life, extricate its voice
like a fishspine
and hang it by a thread so I
could watch it slowly turn through the light.

Tonight the sky walks beside me;
I run my hand down the magnolia’s cold spine: Each branch lifts
a menorah to the night.
You are with me
in the petal’s conversation
with its limb.

I release you.
The magnolia spills against the night.


Mimi Plevin-Foust received her MFA from New York University’s Dramatic Writing program. She has published poetry, screenplays and essays in Half The Sky,, POZ Magazine, SCRIPT, Spoon River Poetry Review, Stickman Review and more. Shortly after college, she helped to found Sojourner House, a Rhode Island advocacy and resource center providing safe haven for domestic violence victims.  Mimi lives in Cleveland, Ohio with her husband, daughter, three cats, and a star magnolia in the front yard.

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