Carolyn Guinzio

Guided by the memory of light.

            Don't forget not to speak of

            what should stay on the ground

between us. A heron lifts off the limbs,

tucking its feet beneath it

even the

most meek

puddle where

life worms

its way

into being

winged

It's warm in the frame, under the lamps.

No one speaks because

                        keeping warm.

To speak takes it out of the body.

We placed it on the ground between us.

After it fell again, we rebuilt it.

The wind keeps gusting it into the barbed

fence. Holes are torn roughly, not cleanly

punched. We have to keep this between us…

At The Future

Home of the New

Church…

They tell you

that when you think

you can breathe,

you'll bury

what you draw.

Can you make me

a chair that looks

like this chair?

I needed to see you,

but you weren't here.

There was no sign.

The gate was bolted.

If I could

be a character with a mind

to find inside my own head

the path from A to B…

You have to wonder

who would leave

a ladder open

in an empty lot.

First, say:

Today will not end

as if it never began.

Thunderheads are not

gathering.

Father Latta held a quarter

in one of his two closed hands.

Which hand? He was quietly telling

jokes to pictures of dead pastors…