and the wildflowers burst purple and lace
flagging the interstate
when the sun's low and our sky breathes
I wonder whether the skills are such I could take on
the full country of paved roads
my own hands, my own
tires. I tell you this as I connect you were with
you are like a constellation,
the age we in fact now are
a minor vision and codas
I realized the night previous who and how
much is taken as sum total
granted, as firmament, stars
and crescents etching accumulate cuts,
your silhouette cuffing the cloud blanket
dusking the river in dusk.
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Issue 56
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Editor's Note
-
Poetry
-
Fiction
-
Essay
- David RigsbeeOn Katie Ford
-
Book Review
- David Rigsbee reviews the Collected Poems of Jack Gilbert