Winter 2002 • Vol. XXIV No. 1 Poetry |

Andromeda

The beach still dark, I ran down to the sky,it was all topsy turvy, vice-versamother and father sleeping, encoiledin their ether of unchange.I was changed. The momentcarried me out like a catamaran,wind in its sails. It carried me out past the tealto the puiple bands of waterreefs sharp enough to skin my flesh,the bony deposits, the teeth of the sea.No, I would not focus on danger.I would not panic and turn back.The moment stole mepast the wild hyacinth and the hillsbacking off, silently disowning me.Wind in its sails, the momentengulfed me with its bottomlessness,its fluidity, so blue and clear.When the moment touched me, I knewit could not outstep itself,that only as I spoke of itdid it take me away,and as suddenly as I stopped,I was backunder the light of such dull stars.Morning. Father waking enragedand mother averting her eyes,the catamaran so furiously mooredin me.

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The beach still dark, I ran down to the sky,it was all topsy turvy, vice-versamother and father sleeping, encoiledin their ether of unchange.I was changed. The momentcarried me out like […]

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By Harriet Levin

The beach still dark, I ran down to the sky,it was all topsy turvy, vice-versamother and father sleeping, encoiledin their ether of unchange.I was changed. The momentcarried me out like […]

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