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Category Archives: Reprint
At the Poetry Workshop
Outside, the bay is that August blue Of sailboat masts, White spires beyond the shore. The workshop leaders want us to Write with other people’s words, Describe something that shows What we believe. In this long day We are quickened, … Continue reading
By the Meadow: June 2007
Betsy Winbourne, now eighty, Rakes hay in the meadow at midday— You would not do this a month from now; Up from Boston, opening the cottage. No sign of the Woodleys; They say his tumor has come back, His fields … Continue reading
Time Is Money
I awake to hear radio news of yet more empty pockets being emptied further, whilst shop counter tills overflow with increases. I rise and make tea with the last tea bag in the packet, hold my breath full of morning … Continue reading
Poppies
On the estate’s edge, the poppies sway in bundles, on this small wasteland patch, a centre of tranquil peace among the greying roofs and crooked smiles. The street’s unnerving calm seems to stare through me, knowing I’m an unwilling intruder. … Continue reading
Night Light
The last visitor before I sleep is always the old priest puffing up the stairs to my door, a wine cask under each arm, a loaf of pumpernickel in his teeth. He’s always too late to give the last rites, … Continue reading
Frozen
A long time ago, during our many summers on Grundvik Island, I would wake up early every Thursday and run down to wait for Jonas Ström and the mail. I’d listen for his hoot in the pale light of morning, … Continue reading
Love
One night when I was ten years old, I found my mum crying in the kitchen. I had awoken in the middle of the night, unsure of what had pulled me out of a bonbon dream that was instantly forgotten. … Continue reading
suburbia
you, too, have spoken of its taste: voluminous quiet, stifling like the pale ochre of maple saplings. a long, seeping sip of cloth obscures my mouth, dims the din of saws. they cut long and close and hard, fell a … Continue reading
Proposition
Give me two strong legs and an eye for detail – then we’d really have something. Whether we are what we envisioned ten years ago wasn’t the question, was it? It shouldn’t have been, even then. You keep asking me … Continue reading
How Sweet to Have a Home in Heaven
Cherry Vanover was staring out the room’s one long Victorian window, naked except for a pair of red-and-white striped six-dollar-a-pair stockings, and seated in a ladderback chair beside the high four-poster bed. Whatever it was she saw, I thought it … Continue reading
Depth Perception in Hawks
Snow settles in the seams of the flagstone our father wrestled into walkway while in the warm kitchen at the head of the family table he wields knowledge like an ax. I am good-girl under his hail of facts: Abel, … Continue reading
Greyhound
This place is not like the pound—greyhounds don’t bark, nor do they make any frenetic appeals for freedom, nor do their sleek bodies betray any sign of disease. Professional athletes, these dogs have been fed and watered with precision. Now, … Continue reading
Sticks
My boys love sticks. In particular, they love turning sticks into swords and attempting to stab each other. Or they will thrash something with the sticks, especially any type of living vegetation. As the father of the stick-wielders, the whole … Continue reading
I Am No Timid Electra
Hands. We fill buckets with them, full of raspberries. My father knew her by them: stained and scarred from apologies that made hot pies, tarts, puckered lips that got wiped with the edge of a shirt. Red. He witnessed the … Continue reading
Equus, Equine
The phallic nature of the horse; I was never drawn to them the way the other girls were. My desires never took the form of a deep plunge into soft brown from the head – or even the elongated middle … Continue reading
from Symphony No.4 (the spatial fate of muted zeros)
Prologue Spatial fate awaking at dawn insofar as the crow intones another world within the atoms imagined in the floated motes of dust in the refracted absence of shadow through the glass portico of prismatic flaws observed in a quantum … Continue reading
Volvelle
You said I’ll miss the light when I leave here this place where we’d begun always lit by the sun as if the gods were still children who invited us to play in their daylight. You know this because you … Continue reading
Showcase
We are both cast inside our glass chambers displaying for the other. You reach into my vitrine shake off the dust and flip on the back light my eyes dart towards the glass at the passers-by. But there is only … Continue reading
Waves
You ask why I sent you the waves— a captured glimpse, on my back, yearning, their roar turning their blues like my dreams of you in a blue Hawaiian shirt, shocking-blue bird pecking my feet, white froth licks— and you … Continue reading
Muse
What is it like knowing you have opened me from the inside tapped deep releasing an outpour captured only in craft a form you can take away as your own a souvenir embodying our journey. This is a reprint of … Continue reading
Metaxa
A name like silk sounds, metaxi, spun gold brandy wine threads weave an early winter, warming no wonder it’s served after death services smooth shots slung in mid-air no need to count stars— three will suffice This is a reprint … Continue reading
Bottles
My Dad calls me early evening and he sounds out of breath, tells me that I need to come over soon and bring Dave to have a final drink, the important one, before he leaves Hawai’i. I look outside from … Continue reading
The Decision to Drive or Not
I alone am the cause of this drought, and hatred’s all that’s left on tap so that’s what I’m drinking. I drink and everything falls in my stomach, out of my head to a place I can touch with my … Continue reading
Acrosticalyptic
Yesterday I met a man from Shelmire who wore pink trousers and ate Exquisite bananas, brown and rotting, as if they were his last meal for The night. He leaned into my ear and whispered the meaning of life: At … Continue reading
Bienvenue
Grampa’s been golfing in the house again. The junk mail from Sears arrives in twos, but you throw the first piece out almost immediately and keep the second one, in case we need a duvet. Last week I drove by … Continue reading
