Karina Borowicz

June 12, 2014 Borowicz Karina



Driving toward

the town of my childhood

the closer I get the more

I dissolve, salt

in time’s water.

Even memories

not born there

live there now. Everything

ends up magnetized

to that place – the Cathedral

of St. Basil, rebuilt

on County Street.

The shaggy hides

of mountains push

against factories.


Does it matter

that everything I’m living

is memory

that nothing happens


for the first time?


The stuffed albatross

in a glass case.

In the children’s museum

I keep circling

back there. The carefully

painted backdrop: beige swath

with brown stippling for sand

olive checkmarks

for beach grass.

And my reflection

a ghost that holds

a yellow-eyed bird

in its watery outline.

Karina Borowicz’s collection The Bees Are Waiting was selected by Franz Wright for the Marick Press Poetry Prize and has been named a Must-Read by the Massachusetts Center for the Book.  Her work has appeared widely in journals, including AGNI, Poetry Northwest, and The Southern Review.  Her translations have been featured in Poetry Daily.