Fall 1991 • Vol. XIII No. 4 Poetry |

Do You See Her Alone on the Mountain?

hands lowered, wind on her face,brilliant sky pressing down? Will you return with her to where the ghosts live?Way back before she forgot where all the wounds wereor what the weapons looked like,before the long climb to anesthesia? Alone and pretending the ghosts are gone, faded into the white haze of fall,where the granite is granite, the west wind bears rain, every moth and cricket, all the small lizards, are only what they seem. Permafrost woman, unmeltable in the sun, your skin is adobe-thickbut you have sealed your heart from the nourishing rain. You paint the lies away with thin white watery clayand you are so tiredyou cannot stop. This has become      the very voice of her. This will be the medicine she needs      seized and drained away.

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Train Stop

By Clarence Major

hands lowered, wind on her face,brilliant sky pressing down? Will you return with her to where the ghosts live?Way back before she forgot where all the wounds wereor what the […]

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