Spring 2014

Edited by Andrea Spofford | Barry Kitterman | Amy Wright


Elegy for a Living Vastness

Somewhere between Melbourne and Osaka

Suzanne Marie Hopcroft

Like that, the sea is gone. Not
the sea precisely: what we think of 

when we smell it. Flash
of scales, flap of gull-wing 

between wave and sky. The fish
are on board, then on shore; 

the skimmers follow
in buoyant, unhappy trains. It’s 

been years since we tried
to keen. I want to paint 

a phantasmagoria of rocking and
wailing suits, but no one 

will tell me how. Squint,
they say. Squint, and the sawed-off

Honda at the neck of the reef
will make you laugh.

Meanwhile rope and teeth
wash up on rock, spun out and 

luminous, slick hoard of invaders
we knew would return.

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