"Who uses these roads that they are so pristine?"

More Perihelion:

Bob Sward's Writer's Friendship Series

Book Reviews

Need to Know



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

Martha Zweig

Martha Zweig

Jennifer Pilch

Postpartum Departure


Pink canoes of variable size are floating face down
Or stuck to the floor of large tide pools
The canoes were painted many times or have corroded
Strokes of different pink overlap
Once a service to tourists below sweeping dark cliffs
The canoes now rest in droves of silver-eyed
Black sliver fish darting like traffic
On a midnight street far below


Iíve been warned of your psychosis and false treatment of others
I convince myself youíre a scientist
Does far reaching thought require benevolence or a clear trajectory?
We dine in mountainous cliffs
You wear a somber plaid
The air is cold metallic and smells of burning autumn
Summers often seem peculiar on the coast
Itís late when we drive home down surprisingly swift and snaking roads
Who uses these roads that they are so pristine?


Hydrotherapy tubs and hoses fill a doctorís office
Tin drums yellowing in an abandoned lot
Black hoses hissing in agate puddles
Mothers lying in tubs like beached whales
He carries the baby in ahead of me
Submerges the baby in a tub
I rush to the side of each tub but I canít find the baby
Mothers hiss stranded on their sides
You refuse to tell me which drum
You put the baby in