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


Colette Jonopulos
Edgewater, Colorado, USA


Manzanita, Oregon, January 31, 2006

Stomach-down on the mattress, I awake to the space heater's constant murmur, light left on overnight. Down the ladder to the cold breezeway, into the even colder bathroom, toilet seat colder still. I consider the shower: gentle spray, shaved legs, the interminable waiting for unhurried flow of hot water, while I wait bare feet on unforgiving floor. Shaved legs being overrated, I haunt the kitchen.

Clock on the stove says 6:20. Mix two-parts milk, one-part water, organic cocoa powder, heat to scalding; slather raspberry preserves high enough to slide off hardening cornbread. Up the ladder balancing breakfast and two books, an act of faith, to the loft where I wait for light in my wood-beamed nest. Above the trees: discernible light, morning's lazy arc; how infrequently we consider night's unwillingness to disengage.

after winter storm
moss on trees
on trees

While teasing woodstove embers to flames, something moves above Soapstone Creek: unexpected brown wings stretched wide, a bald eagle glides past alders, glides through rain's unending, glides southward. I stand too late to follow his trajectory, only imagine his swift leaving. All week, such unreasonable stillness, an almost-inner peace, until this vision of beak pitched homeward, breathing arrow of intention; now, this unexpected desire for flight.

overflows metal bowl
more rain



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