"...the only light is owed to the faultiness of wood."


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Issue 12: The Necessary Ear

Issue 11: The Necessary Eye

Issue 10: Out on a Limb

Issue 9: The Missing Body

Issue 8: The Lily

Issue 7: Passages

Issue 6: No More Tears


Carolyn Guinzio


Roseland

In the snow, we canít see
the oncoming dark and light,
so children are late getting home
for retrieving their flattened
pennies from the track,
rubbing their thumbs
where the grooves of a face
used to be. The basement
window bottle glass
was taken by someoneís
hammering need,
and the trains spark over
the continuous dull green
bits. Now there are nailed-
down boards covering
any shadow, and the only
light is owed to the faultiness
of wood. Itís now that we force
the frozen earth to yield its hoard
of wheatbacks, buried in June,
and carry them in paper bags
to board the ten a.m.
We think of them
as beginning here, in our hand,
and then, by our hand,
scattering out into the world.

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