Tag Archives: Volume 15-2

CPR Journal Volume 15, Issue 2 Now Online

Cider Press Review Volume 15, Issue 2Cider 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.

by Sandra Kohler

The day you leave for a trip on which
you’ll drive treacherous mountain roads alone
for hours, I rehearse losing you, absurd gesture,
useless practice for bearing the unbearable.
The day seems autumnal, or perhaps a cold
late August day when summer’s green’s gone
gray, bleak. It’s June. The farm a mile down
the road is harvesting strawberries. This morning
the husband of a college classmate emails our
list to tell us she died yesterday: news we expected,
he’s watched her agon for weeks, waiting. Still,
he tells us, most of us strangers, “my heart is
broken.” Loss surprises, breaks us every time.

That night I dream I’m watching a car I seem
to be driving stop in front of our house, pick up
a box of strawberries from the curb, drive
around the corner. I expect to hear me climbing
the basement stairs, opening the back door,
become two embodiments of myself, able to be
in two places at once by perceiving I am. Only
when I don’t hear myself come in do I realize
it wasn’t me driving, there aren’t two of me.
Someone’s stolen my car, my strawberries,
my place. The self who’s driven off, taking
the berries, the sweetness of my life, and
won’t come back, has abandoned me to loss.

The next morning a gray blowing world
waits, a green changing world. Clouds full
to bursting or not, weather shifting to storm
or clearing. You phone, you’re on your way.
When you get home hours ahead of time,
surprising and not surprising me, it’s so good
to have you here it’s heartbreaking. I’m
ashamed at thinking this, as if the suffering
of others were a play from which I’ve taken
a few memorized lines. I dish out strawberries,
pour the wine. We’re easy, full of laughter.
In the wings, necessity threatens. I pretend
we are the ones you never hear of, unheroic,
carried off by joy before the ending.


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 15, Issue 2.

Sandra Kohler’s third collection of poems, Improbable Music, appeared in May, 2011 from Word Press. Her previous books are The Ceremonies of Longing (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2003), and The Country of Women (Calyx Books, 1995).

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April Canto
by Lois Marie Harrod


At 5 am there is no song
in the black window.
The stage before the performance
and after.


I want to translate
the cardinal
give his tweets
a crimson feel.


When I wrote
the famous poet,
she did not answer.


What are you
afraid of,
will recognize
your cowardice?


The most difficult
is the one you
believe in.


Forget it,


I want to be
the mockingbird
that can sing
any song
like the opera diva
who sings musicals
and once on the sidewalk
hip hop.


More of this
when the cardinal
quicks the apple blossoms.


Too early
for love songs.


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 15, Issue 2.

Lois Marie Harrod won the Tennessee Chapbook Prize 2012 (Poems & Plays) with her manuscript The Only Is. Her 11th book, Brief Term, poems about teaching, was published by Black Buzzard Press (2011), and her chapbook Cosmogony won the 2010 Hazel Lipa Chapbook contest (Iowa State University).

See all items about Lois Marie Harrod

Visit Lois Marie Harrod’s contributors page.