Fall 2010 • Vol. XXXII No. 4 PoetryOctober 1, 2010 |

Draw into your room the

Draw into your room the birds curled by a finger, to your chest the mountains from between slats of blinds,                                streamer by streamer. We're not stopping, not counting       in this place where divisions happen faster than beaks.                   Lie down not to fold your fingers together over your chest. Please do not fold your . . . The parties wait in trees.       Perhaps only sparrows wait in trees? Those good sparrows.             Nothing is scarce as these rivers of legs, this tug of ribcage. When you hold my hand you do not have to think of me---

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Gift

By Daneen Wardrop

Draw into your room the birds curled by a finger, to your chest the mountains from between slats of blinds,                                streamer by streamer. We're not stopping, not counting       in this […]

Before Midsummer above the River Again

By W. S. Merwin

Draw into your room the birds curled by a finger, to your chest the mountains from between slats of blinds,                                streamer by streamer. We're not stopping, not counting       in this […]

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