Originally from Pennsylvania, Alicia Hoffman lives, writes, and teaches in Rochester, New York. Author of two books, Railroad Phoenix and Like Stardust in the Peat Moss, her poems have appeared in a variety of journals, including The Penn Review, Radar Poetry, Up the Staircase Quarterly, Rust + Moth, Lockjaw Magazine, SOFTBLOW, and elsewhere. She holds an MFA in Poetry from the Rainier Writing Workshop at Pacific Lutheran University.



Poets Resist
Edited by Michael Carter
August 24, 2019

Alicia Hoffman

The Work of Bodies

At the border, the body makes a sign of the cross. The body wades through, then swims against the rising current. The body works against its own safety. A raft of sleep in the cell, a body floats on the boat heading towards the light until ultimately lightening to release its final breath of air. Clouds part. Land heaves. Valley of grasses. Field of clover and timothy. Switchbacks and one lane bridges and jungle heat and winds. Hungering for the food of its origins, a body lies supine in a stretch oblique as the spine of the Cascades spreading up the coast and capped in glacial snow. A body celebrates the work of bodies at the dancehall. It turns and twists and bends. Embraces and extends itself towards another it desires. It needs. Sees itself in the mirror, sees sanction and land mine, river guide and coyote. Sees children, then sees no children. The body stands tall. Plants its feet like the vinca vines that never quit climbing. They are impossible to stall. A body is a caravan. When the body ceases to move you, you’re through.


Poets Resist is published by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.