Judith Terzi's poems have appeared in a wide array of literary journals including BorderSenses, Caesura, Columbia Journal, Raintown Review, and Unsplendid; as well as in anthologies such as Malala: Poems for Malala Yousafzai (FutureCycle), Myrrh, Mothwing, Smoke: Erotic Poems (Tupelo), and Wide Awake: The Poets of Los Angeles and Beyond (Pacific Coast Poetry Series). Her poetry has garnered prizes and recognition from Able Muse, the Arroyo Arts Collective Lummis Day Festival, Atlanta Review, and has been nominated for Best of the Web and Net and included in Keynotes, a study guide for the artist-in-residence program for State Theater New Jersey. Casbah (2016) and If You Spot Your Brother Floating By (2015) are her most recent chapbooks from Kattywompus Press. She holds an M.A. in French Literature and taught high school French for many years as well as English at California State University, Los Angeles, and in Algiers, Algeria. You can read poems online at http://home.earthlink.net/~jbkt.
Swiss Flag
...And there he was,
tucked into a tank with the Algerian President,
flower petals swirling through
Mediterranean air, free-floating down from
the whitewashed apartment buildings built
by the French. There he was,
rose petals tangled in his thick dark beard,
a beaded gourd that hid Fidel Castro's chin.
Throngs of soldiers and citizens
on the wide sidewalk with me––a twenty-
something American in wonder, straining
to see two young Presidents
of la Revolución gliding through history's
labyrinth. I had seen JFK, barely a speck
of him, from stadium bleachers
in San Francisco. I had brushed against
RFK's shirtsleeve on Olvera Street in L.A.
But this was different, say more like
daring a tryst with an ex. And all the while,
Eldridge Cleaver whizzed around Algiers
in a red VW bus, zipping past
the American School, flipping us teachers
peace signs...
...And there he was,
tucked into a tank with the Algerian President,
flower petals swirling through
Mediterranean air, free-floating down from
the whitewashed apartment buildings built
by the French. There he was,
rose petals tangled in his thick dark beard,
a beaded gourd that hid Fidel Castro's chin.
Throngs of soldiers and citizens
on the wide sidewalk with me––a twenty-
something American in wonder, straining
to see two young Presidents
of la Revolución gliding through history's
labyrinth. I had seen JFK, barely a speck
of him, from stadium bleachers
in San Francisco. I had brushed against
RFK's shirtsleeve on Olvera Street in L.A.
But this was different, say more like
daring a tryst with an ex. And all the while,
Eldridge Cleaver whizzed around Algiers
in a red VW bus, zipping past
the American School, flipping us teachers
peace signs...
© 2017
Judith Terzi
Judith Terzi was a Featured Poet at the May 2017 Second Sunday Poetry Series
Judith Terzi was a Featured Poet at the May 2017 Second Sunday Poetry Series