The War Dead - Sue Ann Simar

These are the bodies that must be cared for.
This hush of flesh, these swollen lips
that cannot offer praise or promise.
These glorious eyes look through me
and what I see are children, a fanfare of
children performing pratfalls on a stage.


Sue Ann SIMAR
First published in Endless Mountains Review

The Desert at Daybreak - Sue Ann Simar

What slips through my fingers is swifter than wind
with lively breath and a scent of death
a wisp of light
the first spoken words of a child


Sue Ann SIMAR
First published in Endless Mountains Review

White Pebbles - Michael Wurster

We were walking through the bees
under the trees that do not sing.
Smoke everywhere. And in the cottage
at the center of the forest, the rain
dripping from the roof. The children
would sleep or stare out. It was as if
I were a boy again, going down
in a white bed, not knowing.

They are what they are, he said,
handing us our check.
I remember that natal soil,
mother preparing the lentil soup.
What to predict, what to prefer?
White pebbles in our mouths smooth smooth.


Michael WURSTER
First published in The Blue Guitar.
Collected in THE SNAKE CHARMER'S DAUGHTER, Elemenope Productions, 2000.

The Theology of Stones - Michael Wurster

Consider the theology of the stones,
how patiently they wait in some lost arroyo
for a further incarnation.

They like to stay up late
in the cool night air.

They ignore the obvious that
if they started rolling together
they could destroy us.


Michael WURSTER
First published in Pig Iron.
Collected in THE SNAKE CHARMER'S DAUGHTER, Elemenope Productions, 2000.

Stones at Night - Michael Wurster

The stones sit
in an all night diner,

tough guys,
caps,
cigars.

Their coffee
grows cold
before them,

they are oblivious
to the pinball.

When you go in
in the morning
before work,

they are not there.


Michael WURSTER
First published in Pig Iron.
Collected in THE SNAKE CHARMER'S DAUGHTER, Elemenope Productions, 2000.