by Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach
The women, all women, like forgotten pears
left on a windowsill to ripen, changed flesh:
blush to claret. In repeating cycles, I watched them
drift from the waters to the steam rooms
until they landed on the washing stations where
they spread their legs over plastic buckets, and with palms
cased in small blue mittens, they perused
one another, body by body, scrubbing, cleaning
dark places, I alone, would have missed.
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Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach came to the United States as a Jewish refugee in 1993, from Dnepropetrovsk, Ukraine. She holds an MFA in Poetry from the University of Oregon and is a Ph.D. candidate in Comparative Literature at the University of Pennsylvania. She is the recipient of Lilith Magazine’s 2013 Charlotte A. Newberger Poetry Prize, and her work has appeared in or is forthcoming from Spoon River Poetry Review, Guernica, JMWW, Cirque, Split Lip, as well as various other journals. Julia is also the Poetry Editor for Construction Magazine.