Cider Press Review’s April 2013 web issue, Volume 15, Issue 2, is now online.
Read new work by Sandra Kohler, Lois Marie Harrod, Jeanpaul Ferro, David Filer, Lorraine Doran, Rebecca Aronson, Doris Matthews, Brenda Yates, Diane Scholl, Sharon Chmielarz, Joseph Dorazio, Rachel Rostad, Christine Butterworth McDermott, Barbara Mossberg, Shawn Fawson, Susana Lang, John Davis, Susan Grimm, Grant Clauser, Kathleen Hellen, John Sibley Williams, and Jane Rosenberg LaForge.
Read the issue online today; download a Kindle version from Amazon in May.
At night we shut off the house lights
so returning turtles know which way
to face the moon, and mornings
we find the tide trying to hide
the signs she left in sand, the chiseled
notes like music leading to the sea.
So what’s the chance this clutch
her journey left gripped in sand
will end in oceans—ten or fifty lives
traversing the great blue alone,
the way they do, the weight they
carry home only to return at night by moon?
We were holding hands when we found
it, surf churning through the morning
behind us and gulls hunting dunes
for shallow nests. We hoped that wind
and time would hide it, we hope that
life is easier than this, the fight for light,
for air, for time to make a break and beat
the sun to sea, but there’s no telling,
no guarantee eggs will last or the moon
will lead them where they’re safe and so
love becomes an instinct, the urge to follow
what the body needs against the current.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 15, Issue 2.
When they found the girl,
blue faced in the green creek,
no one knew her name,
but the water owned her
hair and ran like tears
on her cerulean cheeks
as they pulled her
body to the bank.
Three weeks on and no one
owns her still, as if
lost means lost for good
and not misplaced
the way you lose your keys
or lose your way
for a month or year
and come home sad or gray.
You know someone’s lying,
maybe her, blue face
and yellow hair, lips
drawn to ask a question
before she changed her mind.
We’re all lying here
believing no one knows us,
believing we’re not dying every day
like this water chasing stars
downriver, stones tumbling
into each others’ space
and abandoned at the dam.
Her lost way, the path
washed out for worry
and the silt erasing traces
like names scratched into sand.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 14, Issue 2.