v iver new poems by daniel bourne, clara burghelea, andrew ... · 2rv 22.2 (winter 2018) 2river...
TRANSCRIPT
2R
V22
.2 (W
inte
r 201
8)
2Riv
erw
ww
.2Ri
ver.o
rg74
74 D
rexe
l DR
• U
nive
rsity
City
• M
O •
631
30 •
USA
new
poe
ms
byD
anie
l Bou
rne,
Cla
ra B
urgh
elea
, And
rew
Cox
Eliz
abet
h Fo
rsyt
he, L
aura
E. H
offm
an, J
C H
opki
nsB
rock
Jon
es, K
evin
McL
ella
n, W
endy
Noo
nan
Mar
tin O
tt, S
tella
Vin
itchi
Rad
ules
cu
The
2Riv
er V
iew
22.2
(Win
ter 2
018)
The
2Riv
er V
iew
, 22.
2 (W
inte
r 201
8)
Abo
ut 2
Rive
r
Sinc
e 19
96, 2
Rive
r has
bee
n a
site
of p
oetr
y an
d ar
t, qu
arte
rly
publ
ishi
ng T
he 2
Rive
r Vie
w a
nd o
ccas
iona
lly p
ublis
hing
in
divi
dual
aut
hors
in th
e 2R
iver
Cha
pboo
k Se
ries.
2Ri
ver i
s al
so
the
hom
e of
Mud
dy B
ank,
the
2Riv
er b
log.
Rich
ard
Long
2Riv
er
ISSN
153
6-20
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(@2w
eetR
iver
)
The
2Riv
er V
iew
22.2
(Win
ter 2
018)
ISSN
153
6-20
86
The
2Riv
er V
iew
, 22.
2 (W
inte
r 201
8) Co
ntrib
utor
s
Wen
dy N
oona
nO
ur F
riend
ship
Dan
iel B
ourn
eG
arde
n Ps
alm
A W
arm
Spe
ll in
Win
ter
Cla
ra B
urgh
elea
Bro
ok W
ater
Pray
er to
My
Mot
her
And
rew
Cox
Hot
Spr
ings
Sai
d C
all M
e W
hen
You
Com
e U
p fo
r Air
In H
ot S
prin
gs B
ipol
ar B
rings
with
it B
ad W
eath
er
Eliz
abet
h Fo
rsyt
heIf
I Pet
al-P
luck
a D
aisy
It B
ecom
es a
n A
ugur
yI T
ry T
ellin
g Jo
hn I
Don
’t B
elie
ve in
Gho
sts
Laur
a H
offm
an is
a U
nite
d St
ates
Mar
ine
Cor
ps v
eter
an a
nd
a se
nior
at T
he U
nive
rsity
of N
orth
Flo
rida.
Her
mos
t rec
ent
wor
k ap
pear
s in
The
Ban
galo
re R
evie
w, C
ease
Cow
s, C
lear
Po
etry
, The
Gyr
osco
pe R
evie
w, P
oetr
y C
ircle
, and
Typ
ishl
y. JC
Hop
kins
is a
Gra
mm
y no
min
ated
son
gwrit
er, a
poe
t, pa
inte
r, an
d ja
zz p
iani
st. H
e ha
s ha
d tw
o bo
oks
of p
oetr
y pu
blis
hed:
Fr
om F
ar R
ocka
way
to W
inds
or T
erra
ce a
nd S
umm
er o
f Blu
e H
umid
ity. H
e al
so is
the
man
agin
g ed
itor o
f Noi
r Nat
ion
and
the
poet
ry jo
urna
l Lov
e W
ithin
Lov
e.
Bro
ck J
ones
is th
e au
thor
of C
enot
aph
(Uni
vers
ity o
f A
rkan
sas
Pres
s, 2
016)
. His
poe
ms
have
app
eare
d in
The
Iow
a Re
view
, Lun
ch T
icke
t, N
inth
Let
ter,
Poet
ry D
aily
, and
els
ewhe
re.
He
is a
n as
sist
ant p
rofe
ssor
of E
nglis
h at
Uta
h Va
lley
Uni
vers
ity.
Kev
in M
cLel
lan
is th
e au
thor
of O
rnith
eolo
gy (T
he W
ord
Wor
ks, f
orth
com
ing
2018
), H
emis
pher
es (F
act-
Sim
ile E
ditio
ns,
fort
hcom
ing
2018
), [b
ox] (
Lett
er [r
] Pre
ss, 2
016)
, Trib
utar
y (B
arro
w S
tree
t, 20
15),
and
Roun
d Tr
ip (S
even
Kitc
hens
, 201
0).
Wen
dy N
oona
n tu
tors
writ
ing
at a
sm
all,
priv
ate
art c
olle
ge in
Po
rtla
nd, O
rego
n. H
er p
oetr
y ha
s be
en fe
atur
ed m
ost r
ecen
tly
in C
razy
Hor
se, M
uzzl
e M
agaz
ine,
and
Pai
nted
Brid
e Q
uart
ely.
Mar
tin O
tt is
the
auth
or o
f sev
en b
ooks
of p
oetr
y an
d fi c
tion,
in
clud
ing
Und
erda
ys (U
nive
rsity
of N
otre
Dam
e Pr
ess)
and
Sp
ectr
um (C
&R
Pres
s). H
is re
cent
wor
k ha
s ap
pear
ed T
he N
orth
A
mer
ican
Rev
iew
and
Pra
irie
Scho
oner
.
Stel
la V
initc
hi R
adul
escu
writ
es p
oetr
y in
Eng
lish,
Fre
nch
and
Rom
ania
n, a
nd h
er p
oem
s ha
ve a
ppea
red
in A
shev
ille
Poet
ry
Revi
ew, L
ouis
ville
Rev
iew
, Rhi
no, S
enec
a Re
view
, and
Wal
lace
St
even
s Jo
urna
l, am
ong
othe
rs. I
n 20
15, O
rison
Boo
ks P
ress
pu
blis
hed
I Scr
ape
the
Win
dow
of N
othi
ngne
ss: N
ew a
nd
Sele
cted
Poe
ms.
The
2Riv
er V
iew
, 22.
2 (W
inte
r 201
8) Co
ntrib
utor
s
Dan
iel B
ourn
e te
ache
s in
Eng
lish
and
Envi
ronm
enta
l Stu
dies
at
The
Col
lege
of W
oost
er in
Ohi
o, w
here
he
edits
Art
ful D
odge
. H
is b
ooks
of p
oetr
y in
clud
e Th
e H
ouse
hold
God
s; W
here
No
One
Spo
ke th
e La
ngua
ge; a
nd O
n th
e C
ross
road
s of
Asi
a an
d Eu
rope
, tra
nsla
tions
of P
olis
h po
litic
al p
oet T
omas
z Ja
stru
n. C
lara
Bur
ghel
ea is
Edi
tor a
t Lar
ge o
f Vill
age
of C
ricke
ts. H
er
poem
s ar
e pu
blis
hed
in jo
urna
ls s
uch
as A
mbi
t Mag
azin
e, F
ull
Cro
w P
ress
, Ind
iana
Voi
ce J
ourn
al, P
eaco
ck J
ourn
al, a
nd Q
uail
Bel
l Mag
azin
e. A
ndre
w C
ox is
the
auth
or o
f The
Equ
atio
n th
at E
xpla
ins
Ever
ythi
ng, F
ortu
ne C
ooki
es, a
nd th
e hy
pert
ext c
hapb
ook
Com
pany
X. H
e ed
its T
he U
City
Rev
iew
.
Eliz
abet
h Fo
rsyt
he, w
ho te
ache
s at
the
Uni
vers
ity o
f Tam
pa,
is th
e re
cipi
ent o
f the
201
6 Ja
ne L
umle
y Pr
ize.
Her
wor
k ca
n be
foun
d at
Blo
od O
rang
e Re
view
, Col
umbi
a Po
etry
Rev
iew
, H
erm
eneu
tic C
haos
, Tin
derb
ox P
oetr
y Jo
urna
l, Tu
pelo
Q
uart
erly
, and
els
ewhe
re.
Laur
a H
offm
anRe
dact
ed S
iste
r Hea
ven
Sand
man
JC H
opki
nsH
ave
You
Ever
See
nTh
e Su
n C
omes
Up
Qui
ckly
Now
Bro
ck J
ones
Ben
tD
ream
in w
hich
the
City
’s D
estr
oyed
Kev
in M
cLel
lan
Ane
sthe
sia
Dev
ices
and
Mis
ogyn
y
Mar
tin O
ttFo
r Eve
ry N
ail i
n th
e B
omb
Ther
e W
as a
n A
ct o
f Kin
dnes
sPe
sky
Woo
dpec
ker B
reak
s C
ar M
irror
s in
Geo
rgia
Nei
ghbo
rhoo
d
Stel
la V
initc
hi R
adul
escu
blue
s (1
)bl
ues
(2)
The
2Riv
er V
iew
, 22.
2 (W
inte
r 201
8)St
ella
Vin
itchi
Rad
ules
cu
blue
s (2
)
mus
ic fr
om th
e bo
nes
: s
leep
my
hear
t dr
eam
as if
alre
ady
dead
you
’re lo
okin
gfo
r sea
sons
look
ing
for s
prin
gw
ater
drip
ping
from
clo
sed
eyes
hand
s sh
iver
ing
the
bran
ches
the
tree
a so
litar
y th
ough
t pus
hes
the
sky
beyo
ndan
y w
ords
he
re&
ther
e m
usic
from
the
ston
es
Stel
la V
initc
hi R
adul
escu
blue
s (1
)
an a
ngel
lost
its
win
gsby
telli
ng th
e tr
uth
fem
ale
or m
ale
coul
dn’t fl y
or w
alk
on la
yers
of l
ight
whi
ch w
asn’
tlig
htno
r dar
knes
s so
ul a
fter
sou
lbe
ggin
g to
let t
hem
inI w
alk
on s
now
like
on lo
st d
ream
s
Wen
dy N
oona
n
Our
Frie
ndsh
ip
I’m w
alki
ng in
the
woo
ds a
lone
. Mos
s pe
lts g
iant
sta
lks
of tr
ees.
Li
ght i
s sp
arse
her
e, th
e ai
r coo
l and
wet
in m
y lu
ngs.
I tu
rn a
co
rner
and
ther
e, in
the
path
, lie
s th
e bo
dy o
f a ra
bbit:
lim
p,
whi
te, a
nd s
o im
mat
eria
l, I t
hink
it’s
a pi
le o
f ski
n an
d fu
r. B
ut
whe
n I t
urn
the
thin
g ov
er w
ith m
y fo
ot, I
see
the
teet
h, lo
ng
and
yello
w, t
he o
pen
eye fi x
ed a
t the
sky
.
Bec
ause
I ha
ve n
owhe
re s
peci
al to
go,
I bu
ild a
fi re
by
this
ra
bbit.
Tak
e of
f my
shoe
s, m
y ha
t. Th
e su
n w
ill g
o do
wn
soon
. Th
e ra
bbit
has
craw
led
into
my
lap,
its
deat
h so
fres
h th
e bo
dy
is n
ot y
et fi
lled
with
bee
tles.
I cl
ose
vaca
nt, w
ild e
yes;
str
oke
fur
that
feel
s al
ive.
Whe
n its
ski
n op
ens
off t
he b
one,
it c
omes
cle
an, l
ike
an
unfu
rling
tong
ue. I
pul
l han
dful
s of
gut
s an
d th
row
them
in th
e bu
shes
. Fol
low
ed b
y th
e tin
y liv
er. L
ungs
. But
I’m
car
eful
with
th
e th
in b
lue
skin
ned
gall
blad
der;
if it
brea
ks o
pen,
the
mea
t is
ruin
ed.
I coo
k its
ski
nny
brea
st o
n a
spit
over
the fi r
e fo
r my
dinn
er a
nd v
ow to
mor
row
I w
ill m
ake
a pa
ir of
glo
ves
from
the
silk
y fu
r in
my
pock
et. A
roun
d m
e, th
e da
rkne
ss is
a v
ein,
and
I am
its
bloo
d. I
am s
ick
with
love
.
Dan
iel B
ourn
e
Gar
den
Psal
m
O th
ose
song
s I o
nly
try
to re
mem
ber
Whe
n I h
ave
drun
k to
o m
uch
O th
ose
song
s
That
onl
y m
anag
eTo
rise
up
thro
ugh
my
thro
at
Tran
sluc
ent s
peci
es
Like
a h
umm
ingb
ird’s
bib
Buz
z so
ng
That
get
s yo
u in
the fl o
wer
Mar
tin O
tt
Pesk
y W
oodp
ecke
r Br
eaks
Car
Mirr
ors
in G
eorg
ia
Nei
ghbo
rhoo
d
We
susp
ecte
d th
is a
ttac
k w
as p
rem
edita
ted,
the
adva
nced
sc
out o
f a b
ird re
volu
tion
mak
ing
sure
that
we
coul
d no
t tr
ack
the
billo
win
g cl
ouds
hid
ing
the
feat
hery
apo
caly
pse.
It
turn
s ou
t tha
t the
crim
e w
as n
ot s
o ea
sy to
pig
eonh
ole.
Th
e bi
rd m
enta
l hea
lth s
yste
m h
ad b
een
faili
ng fo
r yea
rs,
with
ear
ly re
leas
e fo
r woo
dpec
kers
who
jabb
ed m
ailb
oxes
an
d ba
seba
ll ba
ts. T
he ti
ny h
oles
pun
ctur
ing
the
nigh
t sky
wer
e du
e to
the
sam
e bi
rd, a
mes
seng
er o
f ang
els
sign
alin
gra
ptur
e in
Mor
se c
ode
and
the
devi
l cap
ture
d in
gla
ss s
hard
s.Th
e ou
tbre
ak w
ould
not
end
unt
il w
e de
cide
d up
on a
mot
ive
that
wou
ld e
xpla
in o
ur in
abili
ty to
pha
se o
ur lo
vem
akin
gto
the
crac
kle
of g
lass
. We
wou
ld n
ot c
atch
this
trou
blem
aker
in re
frac
ted
light
or i
n th
e m
argi
ns o
f our
chi
ldre
n’s
book
s.W
e sh
ake
with
the
win
d an
d m
isju
dge
the
shel
ter o
f tre
es.
Mar
tin O
tt
For
Ever
y N
ail i
n th
e Bo
mb
Ther
e W
as a
n A
ct o
f K
indn
ess
For e
very
son
g ris
ing
abov
e th
e ga
ther
ed c
row
d th
ere
was
an
edic
t of n
ight
.Fo
r eve
ry h
ouse
mis
sing
a d
oor
ther
e w
as a
str
ange
r who
hel
d th
e vi
llain
s at
bay
.Fo
r eve
ry b
anne
d bo
ok h
idde
n fro
m th
e ra
bble
th
ere
was
a p
yre
extin
guis
hed
by v
oice
s.
For e
very
dro
ne z
ippi
ng to
war
d its
foe
ther
e w
as a
mes
sage
left
for a
love
d on
e.Fo
r eve
ry o
utbu
rst o
f ang
er b
illow
ing
to re
nd
ther
e w
as a
con
greg
atio
n ho
ldin
g on
.
Dan
iel B
ourn
e
A W
arm
Spe
ll in
Win
ter
(The
last
sem
este
r bef
ore
my
favo
rite
clas
sroo
m is
dem
olis
hed
in
the
reno
vatio
n of
Kau
ke H
all,
The
Col
lege
of W
oost
er, J
anua
ry
2005
)
Her
e, b
y th
e w
indo
w, o
pen
in J
anua
ry,
I loo
k at
the
scar
red
arm
s of
the
oak
tree
s. W
e w
ould
all l
ike
to li
e do
wn
and
die
on a
day
like
this
,th
e sk
y so
blu
e w
e ha
ve to
look
aw
ay, t
he c
alm
sc
ratc
hes
of s
tude
nts
hopi
ng to
dig
up
thei
r los
t ci
ties
of w
ords
, the
laye
rs o
f cla
y an
d ch
ildho
od,
a ci
viliz
atio
n th
at e
nded
so
quic
kly
ther
e w
as n
o tim
e to
look
bac
k, n
o la
ngua
ge c
reat
edfo
r the
last
wor
ds th
at w
ill a
lway
s ne
ed to
be
said
afte
rwar
ds; w
hile
I, a
she
epis
h un
dert
aker
, ho
arse
and
sub
dued
, poi
nt o
ut th
e sa
ddes
t tre
es a
re th
ose
with
leav
es s
till h
angi
ng.
Like
dea
d m
en s
till n
ot b
urie
d.
Cla
ra B
urgh
elea
Broo
k w
ater
The
ston
es u
nwas
hed,
the
sand
s un
clen
ched
I pla
ce th
em a
roun
d th
e he
art,
an a
rmor
of g
rit o
ver g
lass
y w
ound
s,
strin
ged
unde
r the
ribs
of th
e riv
er th
at is
you
, mot
her,
fl ow
ing
into
me,
end
less
ly.
You
are
wor
d-bu
ilt,
yet I
can
sei
zeth
e w
hole
of y
ou in
to m
y m
ind.
I wis
h I c
ould
go
back
to y
ou
and
the
way
you
pou
red
into
wor
ds.
You
run
like
cold
bro
ok w
ater
ove
r my
hear
t.
Kev
in M
cLel
lan
Dev
ices
and
Mis
ogyn
y
A w
oman
pou
nds
the
doug
h
with
a ro
lling
pin
in
the
back
. She
kno
ws
how
bec
ause
she
was
onc
e
doug
h. In
the
front
of th
e ho
use
anot
her
wom
an, a
cus
tom
er, a
sks
a m
an w
aitin
g fo
r a s
tool
at
the
coun
ter i
f he’
s w
aitin
g
for a
sto
ol. H
e or
ders
egg
s,
igno
res
her—
and
she
look
s fo
r ano
ther
pla
ce to
sit.
Kev
in M
cLel
lan
Ane
sthe
sia
A w
oman
tol
d m
e th
at h
er m
othe
r, w
hile
unde
r th
e he
art
surg
ery
knife
, ca
me
to,
hear
d th
e m
ale
doct
ors
mak
ing
fun
ofhe
r eld
erly
bod
y.
C.
was
afr
aid
she
wou
ldn’
t w
ake,
ask
edth
e bo
y w
hat
it w
as l
ike.
He
said
, It’
s lik
eyo
u di
e.
Aft
er,
in a
vio
let
haze
, I
felt
the
phan
tom
prob
e fo
r da
ys t
hat
follo
wed
—it
just
lai
dth
ere.
Cla
ra B
urgh
elea
Pray
er t
o M
y M
othe
r
If I w
ere
to b
ury
you
anew
ther
e w
ould
be
no m
arke
d gr
ave,
no p
aint
ed c
ross
or h
ired
mou
rner
s.Fo
r all
the
fresh
gra
vel y
ou w
ere
fed
a un
ion
of
wiv
es, m
othe
rs, d
augh
ters
forg
otte
n an
d er
ased
,w
ould
reci
te n
ext t
o yo
u.St
agna
nt w
ater
wou
ld fl
ood,
barr
en w
omen
wou
ld b
ear,
soft
rain
s w
ould
hea
l,m
en w
ould
retu
rn.
In m
y dr
eam
s, y
ou p
lung
e at
me
thro
ugh
the
nigh
tla
ughi
ng y
our l
augh
ter
as o
nly
the
dead
can
sur
pris
e us
.If
I wer
e to
hav
e yo
u ag
ain,
I’d c
radl
e th
at s
ound
,I’d
writ
e yo
u in
poe
ms,
soft
-ski
nned
, rip
e.If
I wer
e to
bur
y yo
u an
ew,
I’d li
e ne
xt to
you
,cr
afte
d w
ords
nee
dles
sbe
auty
and
grie
f our
s.
And
rew
Cox
Hot
Spr
ings
Sai
d Ca
ll M
e W
hen
You
Com
e U
p fo
r A
ir
The
boy
spla
shed
into
bed
and
san
k as
Hot
Spr
ings
offe
red
no
back
stor
y as
it tu
rned
the
mat
tres
s in
to o
ne o
f its
bla
ck la
kes
The
wat
er e
mbr
aced
the
shee
ts a
nd le
d th
em in
a d
ance
that
pa
rent
s w
ill n
ever
kno
w
The
wat
er fl
owed
in a
nd o
ut o
f the
boy
’s ea
rs b
ringi
ng w
ith it
his
fa
ther
’s vo
ice
and
his
mot
her’s
lulla
bies
His
lung
s an
d hi
s ha
ir le
t the
wat
er k
now
they
wer
e no
t ene
mie
s an
d co
uld
keep
a s
ecre
t
Hot
Spr
ings
relis
hed
in b
eing
an
unre
liabl
e na
rrat
or re
luct
ant t
o ex
plai
n w
hy th
e w
ater
cam
e in
the
form
of a
boy
’s m
attr
ess
The
Chi
cago
Sev
en d
id n
ot k
now
the
boy
wou
ld b
e ta
ught
by
the
wat
er to
und
erst
and
the
pow
er o
f voi
ce o
vers
and
how
the
cam
era
was
gro
ping
his
tory
in it
s le
ns
Hot
Spr
ings
cho
se a
leap
yea
r to
intr
oduc
e th
e bo
y to
wat
er a
s th
e B
attle
of K
he S
anh
wou
ld a
dd it
self
to th
e fu
ture
’s ev
enin
g ne
ws
and
his
mot
her b
ecam
e a
win
gles
s bi
rd w
ho c
ould
fl y
Hot
Spr
ings
refu
sed
to p
rovi
de d
etai
ls w
hy it
had
to b
e th
e w
ater
that
mad
e th
e bo
y’s
blue
eye
s be
acon
s in
a la
ke’s
bott
om
or w
hy h
is fa
ther
gre
w s
mal
ler i
n th
e ey
es o
f the
sky
The
wat
er le
t the
boy
sw
im w
ith jo
y w
hile
Mar
tin L
uthe
r Kin
g’s
assa
ssin
atio
n se
eped
und
er e
very
fron
t doo
r in
Am
eric
a
Hot
Spr
ings
kne
w it
was
pur
e ge
nius
to c
hoos
e w
ater
and
its
abili
ty
to b
e in
terp
rete
d by
no
one
the
boy
coul
d sw
im to
and
ask
for h
elp
Ho
Chi
Min
h w
ould
nev
er k
now
the
boy
was
risi
ng u
pwar
ds to
hi
s m
othe
r’s la
p w
here
he
wou
ld la
y hi
s he
ad a
nd u
nder
stan
d th
e w
ater
cam
e to
teac
h hi
m a
bout
nig
ht s
wea
ts a
nd th
e de
pths
he
had
trav
elle
d so
far
Brock Jones
Dream in Which the City’s Destroyed Our city’s turning to dust. Witness the collapses from an upper window: our citydestroyed by fi re. This city. Ours. Not fi re in the elemental sense, but as fi refi ght. Asin, combat. As in, war. Firepower like we’ve never seen in 15 years of fi ghting. LikeI’ve never. Endless stream of tracers cuts buildings at the knees and they crumble. Allof them. A coming rumble. To dust. It’s clear it’s coming for us. No one speaks. Notime to know. No time to say. A rumble this bodily can’t be. Firepower like this can’tbe. This crumble. This disintegration. We fall, we debris. I now alone in my falling. Thisrubble of falling. I cover my head: effortless the passing. This return to dust.
Brock Jones
Bent
A fl eeting aversion to our foolish anglesday again resolves around the cruelest angles. This heart is tall grass wind-shearedat the nodes bent over ruthless angles sounding a calligraphy we might comprehendbut for the ability never to speak our truest angles. Not hating the beautiful war then fi nds uscracking now our skulls on newest angles. Rain-black clouds open orchid-like spoolingout their contrast of bluest angles. Who wants to live forever as we are nowtraced, Brock, by only our most brutish angles?
And
rew
Cox
In H
ot S
prin
gs B
ipol
ar B
rings
with
it B
ad W
eath
er
Big
sky
sai
d le
t’s k
nock
the
bird
s fro
m th
e tr
ees
And
whe
n I o
pene
d th
e do
or
I rem
embe
red
the
time
We
wer
e in
the
car w
ith o
ur m
othe
r
And
the
rain
sai
d le
t’s m
ake
thes
e w
iper
s W
ork
hard
for a
livi
ngA
nd th
e ba
ckse
at s
aid
thes
e th
ree
kids
Will
kno
w n
othi
ng o
f the
torn
ado
Ther
e in
the
dist
ance
W
here
it s
kips
acr
oss
the
tabl
etop
land
A
nd g
athe
rs ro
ofs
for i
ts c
olle
ctio
nA
nd th
e de
er in
the
mid
dle
of th
e ro
ad
Star
es a
t the
hea
dlig
hts
and
says
Bip
olar
brin
gs w
ith it
bad
wea
ther
And
Hot
Spr
ings
sai
d I w
ill n
ot b
e w
hat y
ou h
oped
for
Ther
e ar
e al
way
s ot
hers
Big
sky
sai
d I a
m to
o bu
sy to
hea
r all
thes
e vo
ices
And
the
mot
her i
s to
o bu
sy
Grip
ping
the
whe
el o
f a c
ar in
a s
torm
And
the
thre
e ki
ds a
re to
o bu
sy in
the
back
seat
To u
nder
stan
d ab
out t
he d
eer
Or w
hy H
ot S
prin
gs c
ares
not
hing
abo
utN
euro
tran
smitt
ers
or w
hy a
str
ange
rW
ill p
ull a
trig
ger w
hen
I ope
n th
e do
or
Elizabeth Forsythe
If I Petal-Pluck a Daisy It Becomes an Augury
if i petal-pluck a daisy it becomes an augurythis morning a small tawny bird hovered shoulder height & whisperedsomething about the future i only caught when it said venus &proclaimed the body of woman is divine i asked what about the brain
she was next to me she is always next to me forehead pressed into my neckShe fi ngerspells trauma against my skin the bird said nothing & went up in fl ameit wasn’t a phoenix so the ash meant nothingthe fi re meant nothinglater i swallow a razor because she told me to
J. C
. Hop
kins
The
Sun
Com
es U
p Q
uick
ly N
ow
the
song
, a g
arbl
ed b
ag o
f bird
sth
e tr
ees
outs
ide
my
win
dow
are
gol
den
toda
y, i
will
driv
e th
e el
ectr
olux
all
over
this
pla
ce;
taki
ng u
p th
e ex
trad
ited
crum
bs o
f chi
ldre
nle
ft in
thei
r hun
ger a
nd h
aste
in th
is e
mpt
ines
s i i
mag
ine
wha
t cou
ld b
e pr
esen
tw
hat c
ould
be
devi
sed
wha
t cou
ld b
e de
vast
ated
out o
f pai
nt a
nd s
trin
g an
d pa
lett
eas
if c
rave
was
a w
ord
that
cou
ld b
e us
ed
for t
his
purp
ose,
then
i cr
ave,
if
not a
per
son,
then
a p
uppy
J. C
. Hop
kins
Hav
e Yo
u Ev
er S
een
a bi
rdfro
zen
to a
bra
nch
i hav
ei w
as tw
elve
co
min
g ho
me
from
sch
ool
on a
frig
id a
fter
noon
it’s
true
not o
nly
that
ther
e w
as tw
o of
them
Elizabeth Forsythe
I try telling John I don’t believe in ghosts
i try telling John i don’t believe in ghosts [this is a lie] it spills from my lips &i wind it around my fi ngers a silver chain & black crystala rosary i choke on i don’t know the words & ask instead about burial
he places his fi ngers to my mouth rock salt & running waterhe’s here because i asked him to be kept at the edges bone ash against my chest
i read about funerary cannibalism & think i can understand to keep the dead this close so much closeri have a sudden want for gentleness
Laur
a E.
Hof
fman
Reda
cted
Sis
ter
Hea
ven
whe
n th
e ep
ilept
ic
silh
ouet
tes
danc
e be
hind
veils
of b
utte
r-w
hite
sof
tnes
s in
the
high
rise
win
dow
s of
th
e H
olid
ay In
ndo
wnt
own
I im
agin
e th
atth
e sh
adow
of m
y ba
by s
iste
rm
oves
am
ong
them
I loo
k up
from
my
life
on th
e dy
ing
high
way
bel
ow
and
in m
y he
adsh
e’s
still
wea
ring
a pi
nk o
ne-p
iece
with
gol
d st
ars
stre
tche
d ov
erhe
r litt
le h
eart
if I
coul
dI’d
wis
h he
r lov
e fro
m th
e bo
ttom
of m
y im
perf
ect p
arts
Laur
a E.
Hof
fman
Sand
man
mou
nds
of g
old
from
a th
ousa
ndey
ebal
lsro
lling
like
saltw
ater
tide
s
tum
ultu
ous
as o
yste
rs
pinc
hing
, pul
ling
suck
ling
pear
ls
I wan
t to fi n
dth
e gr
itty
slee
pof
his
cor
ners
and
the
tear
sof
oth
er w
omen
sp
illed
ove
r row
sof
bad
bon
esbl
each
ing
but
in m
y be
dof
wet
san
d
he h
as c
ome
for m
e