Winter 1985 • Vol. VII No. 1 Poetry |

Honeymoon, All Soul’s

"See, my life is a kind of distraction and dispersal . . . I have been spilled and scattered among times whose order I do not know."                      SAINT AUGUSTINE        I Under the stripped pecan, the slow, cold rain widens in shallow pools, light circles breaking on fallen hulls and sticks, and every drop shivers the fragment of sky that threatens to gather, veined with branches, if ever the drops cease, and the last circle like the eye's iris in a darkening room—   alone beside the upstairs window, impatient for my bride's long bath to end, I set on the sill an ancient delicate cup, not spilling my reflection, lean toward outer day, and holding my forehead, remember how the soft shells harden all summer under a bitter green and now, in November, rocked by a little wind, let go and bang down on the car shed's tin.            Down in the hall of the old house, where the f

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The Dedicant*

By David Bergman

"See, my life is a kind of distraction and dispersal . . . I have been spilled and scattered among times whose order I do not know."                      SAINT AUGUSTINE        I […]

Cardiogram

By David Bergman

"See, my life is a kind of distraction and dispersal . . . I have been spilled and scattered among times whose order I do not know."                      SAINT AUGUSTINE        I […]

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