I believe

in stigmata
stars when they are absent
Dean's assertion "Godzilla came to Newport"
the hiss of air from a balloon tied not-too-tight
the Santa Anas
snowstorms in Flagstaff
my father's voice
gold shoes
Highway One Big Sur
       rocking our car one November midnight
the tears of Eve
a silence of bones
rain washing down windows
       leaves               mountain ravines
mermaids
pinwheels
stargazer lilies and
birds of paradise
Winnie's 450-mile drive for a slice of pie
embers burning when blue and orange flames have died
kites and clouds
clouds that are more than clouds
prayers without answers
lost sunglasses
warm socks
"Fern Hill"
the way the city juts up hazy from dank riverbanks
internal music
the dark and invisible—
       wind
              nerve impulses
                     ocean floors
                            abysses
morning coffee
wishing wells
ivy
a long slow drink of water

back to issue

Erin Garstka is a poet who lives in the Pittsburgh area.