Erin Mizrahi

everyone’s always talking about keeping a dream journal

in my dreams, i can’t stop talking about Antigone
inform strangers about her radical justice
ask everyone i pass how they would define outside


my dreams have become obvious
i was offered a tenure-track job for $15,000
to sweeten the deal, they threw in two ahi steaks

[i said yes]

my dream-self tells also my dream-self
to get out of my own way
sure, i am writing this poem now

[but another poem is forming alongside it]

do we ask too much of our dreams?
maybe they don’t ask enough of us
gifts are such messy things

[if you hold them right]

sometimes i invent recipes
dates rubbed with olive oil and sea salt
my mentor whispered this to me

[i was so certain it was a memory]

my department chair called for a pasta challenge
all the doctoral students would prepare for her a pasta
and she would choose the best among us

[i’ll never prove myself]

as I passed her in the hall which was plush and singing
she leaned in to say
erin, I’m really not looking forward to your pasta

[that tracks]

as soon as i finish my grant proposal it bursts
into a screeching cloud of feathers
have you ever seen so much green?

[i know ur thinking abt Lorca]

don’t look now
a republican is yelling at me
his face a glittering gyroscope

[how did he get in here?]

About the Author

Erin Mizrahi (she / they) is a writer, collaborator and Pushcart nominee living in Honolulu. A recipient of fellowships from Asylum Arts and the Institute for Jewish Creativity, and founding editor of the multimedia literary and arts journal, Cobra Milk, Erin loves the desert and probably has too many houseplants.