This Thanksgiving you’re sober.
Your words aren’t slurred,
eyes aren’t bloodshot;
you and your sister tease me about my driving.
I reach our destination. Out past Holyoke,
Lee, Hudson, to Millerton.
Silos, still groups of cows and sheep
replace shopping malls, service areas.
Hemlock, fir and white birch
replace maple and oak.
Breathing replaces
the clenched chest, strained muscles;
I walk into the shadowed hills.
Just for today.


Photography © Allison Goldin

Photography © Allison Goldin


Going to The YMCA

You leave your Red Sox cap
on my dining room table.
It’s a chilly spring day.

I take you to
Room 1155—
window won’t open—
glued shut
around the AC unit.
I look down from the 11th floor—
a line of taxis
headed down Broadway.

You fall on your cot,
close your eyes;
a circle of florescent light
tinges your skin green.
On a scrap of paper
you copy a list —
names, birthdays
of our family
(for safe keeping).

I’m glad you can’t see
my face
as I walk away.


Lee Varon lives in Cambridge and writes poetry and fiction. Recently her work has been published in Prick of the Spindle, Willow Review, Sliver of Stone and Spare Change News. She reads he work on Mondays at Stone Soup.

Allison Goldin is an artist living in Cambridge. Her work is a collection of spontaneous drawings from the imagination. The most common link throughout her art are the semi-recognizable creatures scattered amongst and bringing together the surrounding doodles. She is currently studying Illustration at The School of Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.