Category Archives: Rachel Swirsky’s poetry

Soon, the cold solstice

will spin us back toward the sun.

Until then, I nest.

Continue reading →

Winter-whitened sun
makes a cold, pretty morning–
gentle, short-lived light.
Continue reading →

The cold that nestles,
knits a blanket, lights a fire,
turns you toward yourself.
Continue reading →

The cold rain shivers.
I dart, indoors to indoors,
generous shelters.
Continue reading →

The cold rain shivers.
I dart, indoors to indoors,
generous shelters.
Continue reading →

God, it is so dark.
My throat closes like the night,
kaleidoscopic.
Continue reading →

At five, the sky rusts.
My stride matches my husband’s,
a shared metronome.
Continue reading →

At five, the sky rusts.
My stride matches my husband’s,
a shared metronome.
Continue reading →

The sky is no clock.
My body wants to obey
its demand for sleep.
Continue reading →

The sky is no clock.
My body wants to obey
its demand for sleep.
Continue reading →