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yoni hammer-kossoy



King Kong


In the final remake we never imagined would get made, the ape scales the tower, gazes at the glittering city, and with an unimpressed shrug, heads back down. As the credits roll he takes the girl and together they stow away on a cruise ship. Special effects are low-budget at best. The overmixed soundtrack doesn't swell, the lurid tropical sun doesn't set. We never find out if they survive on midnight buffet centerpieces, or if he bids her farewell, tear-streaked close-up included, just before disappearing into the remotest jungle. All we know is that we never really know, a cinematic nod to negative space that tells just as much about who and what gets left behind. A quiet praise to the box camera that once caught mid breeze those summer vacation colors, and oh, look how young my mom is. And my dad, almost smiling, not having seen the script, no reason to doubt how it all might turn out. He's an olive tree, but what happens when he stops being able to hold up the sky?







Originally born and raised in Brooklyn, NY, Yoni Hammer-Kossoy has been living in Israel for the last 16 years with his wife and three kids. His poems have recently appeared in Pidgeonholes, The Harpoon Review, The Jewish Literary Journal, Stoneboat Journal, Mixtape Methodology and Gnarled Oak. You can also find Yoni on Twitter where he posts various forms of micropoetry as @whichofawind.​