Fall 2005 • Vol. XXVII No. 4 Poetry |

Larger to Those Who Stay

After the blight, the year when the pines had succumbed and the once-green air grew gray with sawdust from the teeth of steel that gnawed the dead trees down—that year the exodus began. For weeks departure clogged the roads; they left in droves, unable to bear for long the bareness and the lack of shade—the way the sun beat down on the iron griddle of the ground; the way the wind, without the pines to play, had grown silent, moving across the empty land, like a hand on an unstrung harp. But for those of us who stayed, the absence of the trees grew larger, and with it, the sky, which began its vast retreat into the past, light years away. Like the dark matter of the universe that can't be seen or known except by its effects, the absence of the pines changed the shape of things, and like the distant stars, the galaxies, whose speed defies the laws of gravity, and inexplicably increases as they disappear from view, the empty groves began to grow from som

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Establishment

By Eleanor Wilner

After the blight, the year when the pines had succumbed and the once-green air grew gray with sawdust from the teeth of steel that gnawed the dead trees down—that year […]

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