Maya Stein


Maya Stein Poems

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Best Poem of Maya Stein

Dodgeball

I am thinking about a poem, which words to use for how the afternoon
is spread out like a picnic blanket, fall coaxing a blush from the trees,
the sun glowing photogenically across that pond in the park
where the geese are collaborating on a meal. The instinct to capture
keeps metastasizing. Last night, while the party partied on, I sat on
stiff cushions and chased wild thoughts with a borrowed pen. Sometimes
I don’t know how to stay afloat in my own life’s scenes, diving directly
to some deep end where I flounder for meaning. Even now,
I hear the neighbor kids in the...

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