Glaring Shadows

Glaring Shadows

-Poems and photography by Eliza Newman



I lay there,
His bicep beneath
My taut body,

My dry tongue unable—

I accept his kisses,
My eyes look past;

Isn’t the sunshine lovely?

Limbs atop the binary blanket,
Vomit stains masked
By the glare
Crimson and amber rays
Muffle my screaming—

Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

As his hand inches towards mine
My skin recoils

O, renegade, O wrenched self.





Hold me near,
pass not a word.
The red sea won’t part today.
Dread and
my core filled full;
cling to this moment of uncertainty
(even as the hungry pink lines
keep screaming).

At dinner, a baby coos—
so plump, I think, so loved.
Breast milk floods the apples of her cheeks;
Her sweetness waters my eyes.
But neither of us could wish for that.

Not really.

No matter how sweet,
coos and smiles can’t erase
the screams for blood.
No craggily mugs of coffee in bed tonight,
no record playing or twinkly lights.
Silence plays endless reels;
surplus cowardice fills gaps.

Oh baby, what have we done?

We pray for the day to end,
sleep transposing fear,
quieting the merciless screams.


Post Photos Courtesy of Eliza Newman