Nocturnal
our old dog’s become
nocturnal as a lion
at night I hear his nails
rattling
in the corridor
his harsh sniffs
suck our smells
through the bedroom door
curls of his fur
cling to the rug like snails
his muzzle’s a blizzard
maybe if he weren’t here
I could imagine
we’re still young
pretend
our child’s asleep
in the next room
that we will hear her laughter
in the morning
Eva Eliav studied English Literature at The University of Toronto and The University of Tel Aviv. Her poetry and flash fiction have appeared in numerous literary journals, including Room, Emrys Journal, Ilanot Review, Flashquake, The Apple Valley Review, Horizon Review, Luna Station Quarterly, Fairy Tale Magazine, Stand, Constellations, Minyan, One Art, Gyroscope Review, MacQueen’s Quinterly and Fictive Dream. She has published two poetry chapbooks: Eve (Red Bird Chapbooks, 2019) and One Summer Day (Kelsay Books, 2021). Her work has been nominated for the fifth annual Best Microfiction Anthology to be published in the summer of 2023 by Pelekinesis Press. She has also been nominated for a Pushcart.