|Jan/Feb 2016 Poetry Special Feature|
Artwork by Karen Fox Tarlton
Brackets around a paragraph, needled
swatch of linen,
what does rupture mean? River crests
off-season, only surveyors notice,
in yellow vests;
words of comfort on the death
anniversary, one year, five years,
eleven, twenty-nine—how we love
to measure sorrow,
mete out compassion in proper
doses. Who will be my neighbor?
Share the blanket—a soft one.