Lois Michal Unger was born in New York City. When she married the family moved to Vermont. In 1982 they made aliya to Israel. Her poetry has appeared in magazines in Israel, the U.S.A. and internationally. She has written six books of poems. Her poems have been translated into Hebrew, Italian, Hungarian, Russian and French.
(© Lois Michal Unger All rights reserved)
In Memorium for my cousin Julie Hayes, who died on August 30, 2008
The Blouse You Touched
I didn't wash the blouse you touched for two weeks
later I asked you to touch my words in a magazine
once I held your arm and you said 'that's a nice touch'
we touched we touched
and the waters of our lives pulled us apart.
I Don't Know Why
i don't know why i write sad poems,
why don't i write happy poems
like the way your face looked
when you held my face and kissed me
by a tree in Jerusalem.
Mommy Was The Face On The Barroom Floor
Mommy was the face on the barroom floor
in a poem by Robert Service
high above the hills in a Nevada mining town
we didn't touch mommy and me
I didn't know how
and she didn't want to
but we wore the same face in our lives
once she brought me a see through nightgown
to the maternity ward
I can't wear this!
I have to conform she said
walk barefoot on the grass for me.
The Demons That Hound Me
the demons that hound me surround the bend
guilt guilt guilt they cry
image of a hedge comes to mind
green green green I say
what is it what is it?
I feel blank
what is it what is it?
allow myself to be talked into things
a small voice says
All The Mysteries of Life
I knew my mother when she was old
but that wasn't the mama
of the squeaking bedsprings
on the other side of the wall
then the noise would stop
I pondered the mystery
ate oranges in that bed
after school
I think of these things
all the mysteries of life
tumble before me
there was a drawer
in the hanging on the wall kitchy thing
we would stand on the couch to reach it my sister and me
a folded up magazine story
about having a baby
something sneaked up on when we were alone in the house
it had a smell
He Is
He is a daddy
who wants me around all the time
won't tip his hat
at other people in the street
looks in the mirror
at faces I make
I hold him in my arms
he's the boy
who didn't get enough
when he was young
Middle Of The Night
the man who molested me
didn't kill me
i talked him out of it
in my child diary
i wrote
he kissed me
in two places
it's nite
my husband is sleeping
I feel panic
decisions are so
hard to make
m
