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Amy
Holman is
a poet and prose writer from the Garden State, yet living in Brooklyn.
She teaches writers how to get published and directs the Literary
Horizons program at Poets & Writers, Inc. Poems have been published
in
The Best American Poetry 1999, Poet Lore, The
Metropolitan Review, CrossConnect, The Brooklyn Review
Online, Mystic River Review and in out-of-print chapbooks
from Linear Arts Books. Her reviews, articles and essays have been
published in The Cortland Review, Poets & Writers Magazine,
SideRoad, Frigate, and an Espresso Press anthology, The
History of Panty Hose In America.
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Brother,
Sister
Amy
Holman
(Note:
"Blues" is a shortened version of blue whales.)
Where
there is no accumulation of trust, but snowy pines,
salt on the tongue, do we turn away too soon, shiver and frown?
I
think we mean to track in memory on the milk white carpet
if only to be reminded our feet wear the same size.
Whose
blues populate the past, whose wails have haunts in
practiced arguments? That's how you see it, he says,
with a soft, descending snow on the line like the memory
of a flock landing. Can't feel the air permeated with bird,
can't
hear how he sees it. One by one, the seasons tick by.
Fewer reasons to call. Blues travel in herds and live all over
this indigo
planet. But they keep to their hemispheres, maybe shocked by
the meridians, maybe uncertain of welcome.
Have
we left or just not crossed? |
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Volume
I Issue I