When the World Comes Home, by Abra Bertman

When the World Comes Home

She was a ribbed                                             
luscious pippin
of a girl, new-pressed                                      
from dust to diamond.

Some things get burnt.

A black bear trundled 
and the path steamed
with morning. The soft
paws dug and we licked
water from leaves. 

At night new lights
fell to the ground like
apple flowers.

A branch was tight
with speaking thread.
Green sap
from a clipped stem
stained our mouths
with sun.

Behind us mirrored blades
reflected cities made of smoke
and flame. The ocean crusted
with salt. We bore

children who toiled and fought
in the dark earth,                                                        
built towers of departure.

We listened to the fine dust settling

and cradled our ribs in our hands. 

Abra Bertman

The poem, “When the World Comes Home,” is a collaboration with jazz pianist Franz Von Chossy, and appears in the liner notes of the CD of the same name.

Abra Bertman lives in Amsterdam where she teaches English literature at the International School of Amsterdam. Recent poems have appeared or are forthcoming in WomenArts Quarterly Journal, The Citron Review, Rust + Moth, Paper Nautilus, Absinthe Poetry Review The Inflectionist Review and Spry Literary Journal, among others. Abra was nominated for the Best of the Net Award in 2016.