Spring 1988 • Vol. X No. 2 PoetryApril 1, 1988 |

Election Day’s Eve

Flat on my back In grass that didn't have much cushion, Above me a big wild cherry tree that made All the birds splatter my mother's car with magenta Edged in a wild filigree, Beside me rows of tulip stems, their bright Candy-striped and red and lemon and ivory Petals long since shuffled away On the wind, beside them ranks Of azalea, that grew well there in the acid soil Of what my grandfather claimed was once a wagon track, I watched the clouds Coupling and bumping east across the sky And couldn't see in them the shapes Of anything. It was clear I had no imagination, and I was sorry for that—No doubt the reason why The Christmas ornaments I'd made months before From styrofoam balls and sequins And special glass-head straight pins Had turned out colorfulBut patternless, full of glitter But forgettable, so I tried to fix them, Adding still more, the scaled-down shapes Of bells and butterflies and trombones. I'd read that children pine away soon To adulthood, a fascination With the

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Pastoral

By Lisa Lewis

Flat on my back In grass that didn't have much cushion, Above me a big wild cherry tree that made All the birds splatter my mother's car with magenta Edged […]

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