Liz Marlow

CHAIM RUMKOWSKI ON DEPORTATIONS

—   Łódź Ghetto, September 1942

Out 
(Ants)
Too heavy, even storm 
winds cannot schlep 
this dirt into hills, new 
homes. Nearby, fatigued
boots scuff off
what little polish remains—
waiting to crunch
all that is left,
so the ants march out
empty handed
after sniffing out 
sugar—icing, fruit, jam—
etching a path 
for others to follow.

In 
(Carrion Beetles)
Crowds without 
order—antennae 
point them toward
a mountain
of dead
men’s coats. Ready 
to fill empty boxes—
all the walls
close in on them.
When the sun 
rises, dying 
silhouettes hide—
there is a relief
in remembering
that every inhale
awaits an exhale.

Liz Marlow's debut chapbook, They Become Stars, was the winner of the 2019 Slapering Hol Press Chapbook Competition. Additionally, her poems have appeared in The Bitter Oleander, Permafrost, Minnesota Review, Tikkun, Valparaiso Poetry Review, and elsewhere. She earned her MFA from Western Michigan University and MBA from the University of Memphis. Currently, she lives in Memphis, Tennessee with her husband and two children. 

Please visit her at: http://www.lizmarlow.com