At day, I am a bat. I am a roller coaster.
I've never been to New York but I felt it
when my mother died: I pulled grass to help me breathe.
I sense without senses with my arms stuck
to my sides, I am falling. I am a bat, a roller
coaster that cannot see it's end, lost in a twist
of skyscrapers I've never seen. I count blades
of grass like question marks, when she died
I had to be still. The earth was not still enough.
I've never been to New York—but I want
contrast, to see with my ears. A stoic bat, I hold
my breath on roller coasters. If I cannot be
completely still I want to forget what still is.
Shana Wolstein's poems have been published or are forthcoming in The New Verse News, La Fovea, Anomalous, and Third Coast Magazine. Awarded The Herb Scott Award for Excellence in Poetry, she also received her MFA in Creative Writing from Western Michigan University. While at Western Michigan University she has held positions as Assistant Poetry Editor and Layout Editor at Third Coast Magazine as well as Publications Intern and Copy and Layout Editor at New Issues Press. She currently lives in Kalamazoo with her boyfriend and two cats and blogs regularly at theredspeechballoon.wordpress.com.