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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 9, Number 2, June 2015

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Jennifer Met
Troy, Idaho, USA


At a Standoff

Almost a year later, spring has turned the winter to water—again. But the riverbanks are still there. After last year’s raging, flooding currents, I had thought there would be nothing. I had thought the legion would expand, like gas, into every crevice and then more—up to the forty-year-old pine tops, up to the atmosphere and between the stars. A heavenly conquest—manifest destiny.

white sunlight—
her face lost
in prayer

But no. There are still the same exposed tree roots clinging to the worn away banks—old men with beards—wise gnomes. Eyes closed, slowly shaking heads, as if to say, “We have seen it all, fella. Just try us, we’ve seen it.”

melting snow—
a rooster crows
all through the day

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