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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 6, Number 2, June 2012


Glenn G. Coats
Prospect, Virginia, USA

Vanishing Point

The last time I saw them was after the New Year. I was leaving the grocery store and they were checking out. Maria cradled the baby in one arm and lifted bags into the cart with the other. Alex was handing the cashier some bills. They waved and both said, "Happy New Year." In a thick accent, Maria called out, "I see you on Friday."

They did not make class. I called their cell phone numbers but the lines were no longer in service.

After two weeks, I sent a letter to their apartment—no response. I thought of calling the restaurant where Alex had been working but I did not. After a month, I put their books away.

I think of the day, we studied the globe. Maria pointed at a spot in southern Mexico, near the sea. "That is where we come from," she said. I wonder whether they returned and worry about the forces that may have sent them there.

winter rain
I wait for my hands
to work



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