by Rebecca Ruth Gould

to cover up
& correct the unfortunate
crack in the window

that exposes my nude body.
Sorry, construction worker,
You’ll have to control your gaze.

This is my home.
I will enjoy my nakedness
any way I please.

Though you hover above me
from the balcony,
I’ll not deck myself in false modesty

to appease your lechery.
You go about your business
& I’ll go about mine,

naked, legs sprawled on the bed,
head firmly entrenched
in another time.
&
&

Rebecca Ruth Gould

Rebecca Ruth Gould’s poems and translations have appeared in Nimrod, Kenyon Review, Tin House, The Hudson Review, Waxwing, Wasafiri, and Poetry Wales. She translates from Persian, Russian, and Georgian, and has translated books such as After Tomorrow the Days Disappear: Ghazals and Other Poems of Hasan Sijzi of Delhi (Northwestern University Press, 2016) and The Death of Bagrat Zakharych and other Stories by Vazha-Pshavela (Paper & Ink, 2019). A Pushcart Prize nominee, she was a finalist for the Luminaire Award for Best Poetry (2017) and (with Kayvan Tahmasebian) for Lunch Ticket’s Gabo Prize (2017).

artist: carly clements