{"id":1927,"date":"2012-10-23T20:19:30","date_gmt":"2012-10-23T20:19:30","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=1927"},"modified":"2012-10-24T01:01:12","modified_gmt":"2012-10-24T01:01:12","slug":"cohenlevy1012","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/cohenlevy1012\/","title":{"rendered":"Amelia Cohen-Levy, 10\/12"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><strong>Still Life with Pitcher and Knife<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong><\/strong><span style=\"color: #ffffff;\">..<\/span><br \/>\nSpring pierced the mulch, sudden<br \/>\nas double-edged daffodils.<\/p>\n<p>With the gracelessness of ice water,<br \/>\nyour palms pressed against<br \/>\nthe magnolia blossom etched between my thighs,<\/p>\n<p>eager as a tousled sparrow<br \/>\ncoming out of the wind.<\/p>\n<p>And I am still mourning<br \/>\nthe blue-spotted egg<\/p>\n<p>crushed in the grass.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>Giving Alms to the Birds<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong><\/strong><span style=\"color: #ffffff;\">..<\/span><br \/>\nThe swiftness of falling is a suffering<br \/>\nno one knows better than birds. Blur and flap of flight, winging and soaring,<br \/>\nthat leads to the next rush of air and the current after\u2014<\/p>\n<p>Birds are used to this; they do not expect<br \/>\nthe beak-breaking crash. And we turn to each other<br \/>\nbecause we know it is unnatural:<\/p>\n<p>All the birds dropping from the sky.<\/p>\n<p>And I dream<br \/>\na thousand cranes with great gray wings<br \/>\nrising and falling. I almost feel<\/p>\n<p>the rush of their feathers tickling my nose,<br \/>\nbrushing against the sweep of my eyelids.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><em>Amelia Cohen-Levy lives in Northern Virginia. She studied in Houston, Berkeley, and Washington DC. Her poetry has appeared in Tablet Magazine, The Ilanot Review, 580 Split, and elsewhere. She collects dust bunnies, with the current favorites being named Antigone, Enkidu, and Harry (though Enkidu is edging out the others).\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Still Life with Pitcher and Knife .. Spring pierced the mulch, sudden as double-edged daffodils. With the gracelessness of ice water, your palms pressed against the magnolia blossom etched between my thighs, eager as a tousled sparrow coming out of the wind. And I am still mourning the blue-spotted egg crushed in the grass. &nbsp; [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":934,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1927","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v24.2 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Amelia Cohen-Levy, 10\/12 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/cohenlevy1012\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Amelia Cohen-Levy, 10\/12 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Still Life with Pitcher and Knife .. Spring pierced the mulch, sudden as double-edged daffodils. With the gracelessness of ice water, your palms pressed against the magnolia blossom etched between my thighs, eager as a tousled sparrow coming out of the wind. 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