D Dina Friedman


In the silence between sounds

search for edges


the hard rubbing

of bark against air,


a tree by the river’s shore

resisting landlock


in the overflow ice.

Step out


on that slippery surface.



the air’s gray hues,

slivers of sun



the water’s peaks


staccato    sforzando   

glissando     two squirrels


whizzing on a branch’s edge

stalking the unattainable sky


Still Life

Snow, frou-frou on the rooftop,

a floozy’s feather boa, her skirt tight

as ice over a running stream. I am in love


with the permission afforded by muted light,

nemesis of the sun god’s sweaty power, like the suited man

in the back of the orchestra, banging the bass drum


to silence the cry of violins.  Winter’s unsettled pitch

hovers, a hawk tracking sleepy mice.

Soon we’ll discover a carcass


abandoned by the cat, who lolls on the vents,

yawning his slate-sky indifference. Rain in the forecast.

Promise of the rooftop starlet melting 


like the Wicked Witch of the West,

and the lover who knocks at your door, all flowers

and resolution under the crust. This might be the last day


the narrow plank, icy and camouflaged,

holds track over the water, color of desiccated

olives, before giving way to its inevitable swell.

D. Dina Friedman has published in many literary journals and received two Pushcart Prize nominations. She is the author of two YA novels, Escaping Into the Night (Simon and Schuster) and Playing Dad’s Song (Farrar Straus Giroux) and one book of poetry, Wolf in the Suitcase (Finishing Line Press). Originally from New York City, she now lives in western Massachusetts, where she is currently working on a memoir: Imperfect Pitch. Visit her website at

About the Artist