Supplement
5 June 2008
Vol. 8, No. 2
poetry
When I come, called, to the smallish
skylight, where a hornet huddles
in a cedar corner, trapped
by a metal sieve, wind entering
and leaving him, it is
a rough courtship.
A Tooth, A Child
2 June 2008
Vol. 8, No. 2
poetry
Which one did you lose? Point to the black
cavern, sucked empty by the cell in need
of bones. And what else
did she thieve of skin stretched like loose
linen, and blood
turned water?
