Teakettle on the stovetop, no more boxes we thought. The white roof’s sudden razing, the storm a hundred miles off—not bad news, bad luck. Without notice, windows won’t budge. Tiny far-fetched flickerings pass like paper from a windy deck—I’ve learned to hold a shadow in a box. By the evaporating shore, past the river, we […]
Contributors 80
Rachel Abramowitz: The New Materials
I was only a module, these things. If reading a book is the remedy For walking I’ve heard your voice on the radio, though. I believe you for the amount of time it takes To extract my dinner from its chill coffin And to remember you across from me, or beside. Were you the one […]