New Poetry by Clara Burghelea

Elegy for that time we used to be innocent

and buried our hamster in a large matchbox

after feeding him crumbs of sponge cake

mom had made for Easter day, and we sneaked

in and cut the heel off and hid under the stairs

and you took the hamster out of your pocket

and his little pink snout started feeling things

and we watched him frantically move up and

down our sleeves and run into a piece of cacao

cake and chew on it, smart fellow, you said,

and picked all the little crumbs in your palm,

he stored them all in his cheeks and stayed

still as if savoring the moment, or catching

its breath, then one pouch deflated and his

body stirred with pleasure, later we knew

it was a spasm, a little organ inside must

have snapped, a few seconds later he resumed

his stretching and yawning, little pearly teeth

glistening, you found one final crumb, he sat

up, ears forward, the smell must have lured

him, he grabbed it and the cheek was full again,

and mom called us, so we hurried back to

the kitchen and you slipped him into your

pants pocket and when you sat at the table,

we heard a little snap, mom looked over her

glasses, hands over the green beans and we

swallowed hard and all of a sudden, we were

no longer eight, and the world shuddered with joy.

- © Clara Burghelea 2022

Clara Burghelea is a Romanian-born poet with an MFA in Poetry from Adelphi University. Recipient of the Robert Muroff Poetry Award, her poems and translations appeared in Ambit, Waxwing, The Cortland Review and elsewhere. Her second poetry collection Praise the Unburied was published with Chaffinch Press in 2021. She is Review Editor of Ezra, An Online Journal of Translation.