A Literary Magazine in Support of the Jewish Community
An Ode to Swallowing
when even a spoonful is too much,
you feed on a line of sugar water,
heart thrumming like a hummingbird
when your throat narrows
along with the road ahead
and fear of aspiration
fills you with dread
when the lump in your throat
becomes an unspoken apology
in mine
when the line is drawn
between ritual and survival
and a meal is made of air
when the tart smoothness
of a teaspoonful of yogurt
distills a perfect sweetness
from our first gulp of air at birth
to the first solid that we consume,
we take for granted the breath,
nourishment, swallow the fear of choking
in time, we begin our vigil, watch
our elders, then become our elders—
each bite a promise and a threat,
the irony cruel on our tongues
if we’re lucky, return to gruel,
swallow what we must.
Betsy Mars
Betsy Mars is a prize-winning poet, photographer, and assistant editor at Gyroscope Review. Her poetry has been published in numerous journals and anthologies. Recent poems can be found in ONE ART, MacQueen’s Quinterly, Sheila-Na-Gig, and Autumn Sky Poetry Daily. Her photos have appeared online and in print, including one which served as the Rattle Ekphrastic Challenge prompt in 2019. She has two books: Alinea (Picture Show Press, 2019) and her most recent, co-written with Alan Walowitz, In the Muddle of the Night (independently published in 2021). In addition, she also frequently collaborates with San Diego artist Judith Christensen, most recently on an installation entitled “Mapping Our Future Selves.”
