Gary Palmer © 2003
How, in The Season's First Snowfall,
Frog Came To Leave His Pond In Quest Of The Sea
Voices like a wounded language like pins
Of ice in trees they pricked into his skull
As the pond's edge froze; that sunset, the bay's thin
Necklace of tides shimmered, until snow fell;
It whipped into him; it made our bones ache;
And as I listened, each voice seemed as lost:
". . . It begins ". . . There is a sound ". . .The sea makes
Like a scythe that cuts That whispers Her healing loosened
From the swath That empties From a shell of sighs
That is her flesh Like waterfalls Surrendering. . ."
To remake us. . ." It begins. . . "
Frog heard the voices rise
Like mists of breath on cold days surrounding
him, as tides fingered the marsh grass like a lyre,
As he set out to make the sea his lover.
Copyright © 2003
S.D. Lishan teaches in the English Department at The Ohio State University. His work has recently been published in XConnect, In Posse Review, Mudlark, Barrow Street, Kenyon Review, ForPoetry.Com, La Petite Zine, Bellingham Review, Arts & Letters, American Literary Review, Verse Daily, muse-apprentice-guild, among others.
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