Issue One - Miriam Axel-Lute
Subway Escalator
from rain-chilled morning
I am lowered into
yesterday’s heat
dissolving into it
like summer soaking into
a snow-melt stream
Saved by the Word
When I learned the word phallic
My world suddenly filled with phallic symbols.
In junior high each spotting was worth a giggle –
The first time the shape of the Washington Monument
occurred to one of us.
The first time someone ate a banana in that way
that made the boys squirm.
But it got old quickly and they were still there:
spires and steeples, popsicles, cigars,
sports water bottles, wine bottles…
hell, all bottles.
Ears of corn, space shuttles,
taper candles, salt shakers,
rounded tips of vaseline tubes with tiny holes
in the tip.
It was God’s joke on female creation
making the world in His image.
Then I learned the word yonic
from a friend older and wiser.
I began to draw spaceships on physics exams
that were gloriously cunt-shaped
and finally understood the fuss over
Georgia O’Keefe.
Spires and steeples no longer bothered me
because beneath them
there were
milkweed pods split down the
center to reveal soft insides
slightly open rose buds
and brand new birch leaves
canoes and kayaks
avocados with
one slice missing
showing the crowning head
of a large brown seed.
There were gravy pitchers
slit pockets on the hips of dress pants
and curvaceous hollows in
exposed tree roots
full of rich soil
and complete
with a small knot in just right place.
Yes, God did make this world in God’s image
And we make this world God’s with our words.