Turbaned and beaded, hooped by eyelet
The Bahianas carry rose water in white
Mirrored vases to swab the staircase
At the Church of Good Endings. One ties a sachet
About my wrist and says when it frays
Three wishes will come true. I did not know
I wished for you—skating on bones, on torso
Your knuckles hitting cobblestones
As you made your way into the elevator
Down to the Lower City without hips or legs
You were flying on your knuckles you
Were singing as you flew
Past midnight through the sewers and souls
Of Salvador—oh breathless Holy Ghost
-
Spring Feature 2015
-
Feature
- Poets in Person Jane Hirshfield from San Francisco, CA
-
Poetry
- Sandra Alcosser
- David Baker
- Chana Bloch
- David Bottoms
- Cyrus Cassells
- Carl Dennis
- Stephen Dunn
- Laura Fargas
- Sandra M. Gilbert
- Jane Hirshfield
- Ted Kooser
- Dorianne Laux
- Thomas Lux
- Mary Mackey
- Wesley McNair
- Dunya Mikhail
- Joseph Millar
- Jim Moore
- D. Nurkse
- Naomi Shihab Nye
- Robert Pinsky
- Gerald Stern
- Jean Valentine
- Rosanna Warren
- Matthew Zapruder
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BOOK REVIEW
- David Rigsbee reviews The Beauty
by Jane Hirshfield
- David Rigsbee reviews The Beauty