Otter Cove

By YEHUDIT BEN-ZVI HELLER

 

I took three stones from there:
one from the water
one from the sun
and a small one
to grow.

Co-translated by the poet and Stephen Clingman

 

Yehudit Ben-Zvi Heller is the author of Ha’isha Beme’il Sagol (The Woman in the Purple Coat), Kan Gam Bakayitz Hageshem Yored (Here, Even in the Summer It Rains), and Mehalekhet al Khut shel Mayim (Pacing on a Thread of Water).

Stephen Clingman is Professor of English at the University of Massachusetts. His most recent book is The Grammar of Identity: Transnational Fiction and the Nature of the Boundary.

Click here to purchase Issue 01

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Otter Cove

Related Posts

Year of the Murder Hornet, by Tina Cane

October 2025 Poetry Feature: From DEAR DIANE: LETTERS FOR A REVOLUTIONARY

TINA CANE
I take that back Diane surely you conceived / of it all before any of it came to pass / mother daughter sister of the revolution / you had a knack for choosing the ground / for a potential battle you didn’t want to stumble / bloody out of Central Park to try to find help / there where the money is

Some Kind of Corporate Retreat

TERAO TETSUYA
I remembered reading in a magazine about “cabin fever,” a phenomenon common in high-altitude areas during harsh winters. When forced to stay in the same small indoor space for an extended period, people will develop abnormally intense feelings toward each other such as disdain

beach

“During the Drought,” “Sestina, Mount Mitchill,” “Dragonflies”

LIZA KATZ DUNCAN
”The earth, as blue and green / as a child’s drawing of the earth— // is this what disaster looks like? My love, think / of the dragonflies, each migratory trip / spanning generations. Imagine // that kind of faith: to leave a place behind / knowing a part of you will find its way back, / instinct outweighing desire.