Marilyn Pocius Shelton, Spring•Summer 2017

Anthracite
A Trilogy
Marilyn Pocius Shelton

1.

I hoist my hems for the devilish descent
Down where no bone reaches save my pen

I chisel by inches with the image of a pick
Picture of an axe, auger seen in no one’s eyes
But mine

Grandpa, when you lay down in a chink
Of coal, did you see your mother’s eyes
Rimmed with tears as she waved good bye
Rooted in her Lithuanian soil?

2.

Settling Accounts

After you pay for your carbide Continue reading “Marilyn Pocius Shelton, Spring•Summer 2017”

Harold Jenkins, Spring•Summer 2017

Double Dig
Harold Jenkins

Break the surface with the pitchfork
shave off the sod with the spade
Five feet wide, fifteen feet long

Dig out the first row
one foot down, one foot long
put it in the wheelbarrow

Add compost to the trench
loosen the soil with the fork
try not to think about you

Dig out the second row
toss it Continue reading “Harold Jenkins, Spring•Summer 2017”

Jan Chronister, Spring•Summer 2017

Hunting Season
Jan Chronister

An orange fist sticks out of a bureau drawer
catches my eye, a square of Mother’s black and many-colored
afghan we brought back from Florida last winter
along with quilts, costume jewelry and ceramics—
politely accepted, stored away in darkness, forgotten.

Glow of neon yarn on November morning
reminds me Ruby will never
crochet or stitch again
dress for church
paint another plate.

The hunter will find Continue reading “Jan Chronister, Spring•Summer 2017”

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