Thursday, February 16, 2017

The Sunday Poet: Nina R. Alonso


  Nina Rubinstein Alonso, editor of Constellations, has published in Ploughshares, The New Yorker, Sumac, Avatar, Women-Poems, U. Mass. Review, and New Boston Review, among other places, and her first book This Body was printed by Godine Press.She taught English literature at Brandeis University and U. Mass., Boston, while continuing training in ballet and exploring modern dance.Saturated with academia, she taught at Boston Ballet for eleven years, and performed in their Nutcracker, until sidelined by injuries. She makes her living teaching at Fresh Pond Ballet in Cambridge, MA. She says, “Now is the time for fresh voices in poetry and fiction. I’m looking for a new constellation.


The tall man unfolds
a cloth and spreads it 
like a bed on icy ground
he says, “Lie here
and I will come to you.”

his face is shaded
by something inside him
an echo a warning
and I hold myself apart
because the cloth is

too much like a sheet
too much like a grave
too much like death
and nothing like
my beloved
who doesn’t have  
a shadow face
or cloud blank eyes

I walk away slowly
while he stands there
gesturing as if
to a warm soft place
sprinkled with roses
but I know he will
wrap me in bitterness
fold that last piece
over my face

--Nina R. Alonso

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