©2016 by Deborah Kahan Kolb. Proudly created with Wix.com

Deborah Kahan Kolb

 

November 8, 2016

This poem was published in The New Verse News:

Spectrum: November 8, 2016

The day the red-ones drew the curtains and chose the orange-one

to mind the white oval that had embraced the black-one

nearly three thousand days --- that day

was the day the blue-ones formed

a veined...

October 11, 2016

He's eight today. This poem was written three years ago, and I wouldn't change a single word...

September 2, 2016

Finalist for the 2014 Anna Davidson Rosenberg Poetry Award 

Zhou Ling

My wedding portrait lies.

Glamorous beguiling smiling bride wearing

wedding cheongsam of brilliant scarlet satin

embroidered in lavish glittering gold

skimming angular curves, western bridegroom’s arm

loose...

August 6, 2016

Posting this poem in honor of our 10th wedding anniversary... 

Honeymoon Eyes

Everything is filtered through honeymoon eyes.

The Piazza San Marco, its squabble of pigeons and 

tourists, a little bit of Italy. 

David Gilmour, pinkly lit 

through misty sheets of summer storm s...

May 5, 2016

After Auschwitz

I am vague I am hazy I am indistinct

I am bodiless-

but my black Romani blood river runs

boils and bubbles and

pushes up Piotr’s daisies

I am faceless-

but my non-Aryan features glow searing hot

my crippled mouth and communist eyes

coal to cinder

fuel to Himmler’...

April 25, 2016

A Hasidic community is no place for a woman. That is, a woman has her place. A woman should know her place. And that place is invisible. Secondary. At best, a woman is an afterthought. At worst, she is a target of the vitriol of men. What Hasidic men cannot control, th...

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