After my mother's death, when I inhaled deeply,
I'd spread out like water seeking the boundaries
of my room. In a canal the wake slaps up
steel sides of the lock after a vessel passes
through. At the YMCA, post swim, I hear
a woman in the locker room sobbing, sobbing.
I consider searching for her to ask
Are you OK? None of us are OK.
A container ship is too large to comprehend.
Artificial banks are required for safe passage,
and these days I am oddly soothed by the metallic taste
of bolts and gates. Our day-to-day existence
depends on lungs adept at clearing the rain.
Come sit with me now. Sit beside me and breathe
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Issue 71
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Editor's Note
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POETRY
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FICTION
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ESSAY
Issue > Poetry
Linda Holland
Linda Holland is a poet/musician living in Santa Barbara, California. She has been self-publishing classical chamber music for 20 years. She began writing poetry in 2011 after her mother died. Her poetry has been published in "An Even Dozen," an ekphrastic collaboration sponsored by the Sullivan Goss Art Gallery. She is working on her first manuscript.Poetry
Mary Ellen Redmond
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Deborah Allbritain
Sparrow