Carlie Hoffman

by Carlie Hoffman

Each time I meet with God
he is still singing and jealous
of the way I’ve learned to speak
with my hands. By autumn
I am drunk in the bathtub again.
The water is warm. I think of December
and the Christmas trees sold
along the Singel, the flower market
brimming with black coats.
Like pine, I am desperate to be lit.
God tells me I am embarrassing
at love. I tell him he is lucky,
all mighty, but all voice.


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 18, Issue 4.

Carlie HoffmanCarlie Hoffman is from New Jersey. Her poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in Gulf Stream Literary Magazine, Nashville Review, Jai-Alai Magazine, and Canary: A Literary Journal of Environmental Crisis.

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