Fall 2016

Edited by Andrea Spofford | Amy Wright | Barry Kitterman



​Poetry

​Accidental Morning

​Cathy Guo


Late turned to early when the mail
slipped under the door,
a tiny crease of lemony light
covered, then revealed.
Those pebble steps.

Somehow the tea cooled.
You called it the colonizer’s drink,
and I put my hands over my ears,
I said, to warm them.

When the heat turned off, we knew
it was spring again. The marigold
splashed itself into the hallway,
despite our protests.

I placed a petal in the oval
of your chest
but your body had grown
out of my stretch.
A mailman’s thumb.
Smudged return address.

All of it, morphing
without our consent. No wonder
I run to chapels in the troughs
of dread,

fumbling like any accidental supplicant,
whose prayer is for a single lull
to stay and be.

 

 




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