About Alison Leslie Gold

Posts by Alison Leslie Gold:


Needing cash, on a “bible-black” night (to borrow Dylan Thomas’ phrase) I veered to the right off 9th Avenue into my local (open-round-the-clock) Gristedes Super Market. Along the path to onions and avocados, a fee-less ATM machine. Password tapped, grinding of gears, out fluttered crisp bills (a pack of $20s) that I swept up, thick(…)


With Micah on Christmas

Your downy head against my cheek, your toasty bottom resting in the palm of my hand while your miniature fist surrounds my index finger all morning, all afternoon, until night falls face down across Los Angeles. Then, into evening. Awake. Asleep. Sometimes in between. A choo-choo train of gas toots, a tremulous sigh, your grip(…)


Meeting Micah

Dear Micah, I’m leaving tomorrow morning at dawn to fly to LA to (finally) meet you. You’re one month and seven days old. I’m … eight hundred sixty-eight months and three days old. In case we don’t find much that we have in common, we surely will find a few strong links to each other.(…)


Never enough rain, never a long enough night

It rained through the long night, the thirteenth longest night of the nearly discarded crumpled year. Polly didn’t put the kettle on. I did but couldn’t wait for the whistle so covered dry tea leaves with not-boiled-tap-water while listening to the swish/slosh of car tires; to pauses, to spatters, driblets, sprinkles, sprays, swash. In bed(…)


Short straw

He drew the short straw. Blanched. His task unwelcome. She picked the long straw. Blushed. Her task uninvited. Poem by Samuel Beckett, translated by Samuel Beckett they come different and the same with each it is different and the same with each the absence of love is different with each the absence of love is(…)