Four poems by Esther Sadoff

Watchers

When I was younger 

I tried to imagine the future.

I saw myself as a watcher. 

I watched people passing,

their shapes indiscernible.

My eyes were clear as windows 

but that was all I could see. 

I could only see my own eyes. 

I always thought watching was

something you had to do alone. 

Phantom Pain

Though I’ve never been burned by fire,

I can feel its flame the same way

I can feel myself falling 

from the top of the swing set,

me falling into the pond by my sister’s barn,

or many years later, a sharp turn 

in the road and a large oak tree 

like an axe cutting me in half.

Pollinators

I used to think only bees were pollinators,
but now I know that isn’t true. 

Moths, hornets, and wasps also

transfer pollen from flower to flower—

small city of magenta, deep purple, blushing pink.
Even flies can pollinate,

the second most important pollinator,

but we are only interested in firsts.
There is so little we want to know.

Talking About the Weather 

 In a city this hot, the only thing

to talk about is the weather. 

We spend our days chasing the wind,

avoiding streets with no air.

A city where breeze becomes benediction. 

A weather this merciless will change you. 

Heat this extreme requires discipline. 

Now that I’m away, what is there left to say?