Skip to content

Judy Halebsky – Ⅱ

Space, gap, interval, distance  





I have spent too many days counting

butter or cream cheese

4 or 6 or 8

how to piece in the hours like a layer cake


Lorca and your olive fields

Ginsberg and your mountain dream

I have been a paper doll

not thinking of the rain




written as the sun

coming through the gate


as what we leave open

between us

so the spirits       when they come

will have a place to land


The day we drove from the coast of Salinas back to Sacramento

the sun fell in broad strokes as we leaned into the curve

you were looking at me and I caught your eyes


wish I could have known it then

to mark that feeling in ink

as a stamp

a letter

something I could send in the mail

that would come out of the envelope

just as it had gone in –


carefully written

bled into

and only half-parted with