BETH ANDERSON |
V2n1 Winter 03 |
Suspense |
ANDERSON |
It was a hard winter everywhere, and the angle at which difficulties found you of breadcrumbs floating on the river. It flooded halfway to where the hills roll, placed in packs, they will seek and out all that has collected at the foot with an eye to appraisal, then panic when you flop the last three cards at once. and let other things through. Memories of music supercede hearing, splinter off admit to fatigue, not just to sleep but the need for it. It was a hard winter aren’t old enough to take on the burden of meaning everything we are unable miss something, but here’s a second chance to sense it. Sit in the front of the boat, can be found on postcards in any store near moving water. I have never caught
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Beth Anderson is the author of The Habitable World (Instance Press) and Overboard (Burning Deck, forthcoming). Recent work has appeared in New American Writing, 26, and Five Fingers Review. Her poems are included in The Best American Poetry 2003 (Scribner) and An Anthology of New (American) Poets (Talisman House). She lives in Richmond, Virginia. |