Michael K. Meyers
I took the child up in my talons. Do not be alarmed, I said, you are in no danger. By then we were at a considerable height. Look down, I said, go ahead. When he had I directed his attention to points of interest passing below. There was much to tell, to explain, but we had time and so I told him everything.
This Is Sweden
Fred and Ellen have rented a cottage beside a small lake in—is it in Wisconsin? or is it in Minnesota? Or, a third thought, Sweden. Why not Sweden? Both look around. This is what Ellen thinks; It is because of the cottage, the design of the windows, the line of the roof, or—and this is Fred’s thought—perhaps it is because of the auto that we have arrived in? Both turn look at the audio parked beside cottage, beside lake and think, could be, perhaps is Swedish car. Then for sure, both agree, feel confident in saying aloud, know for sure, this is Sweden. We are—spoken words gushing and speaking together—we are in Sweden. And maybe they are. You are somewhere else. You are not responsible. None of this is your fault.
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|13.1 (Fall 2008)||The 2River View||Authors • Poems • PDF • Archives • 2River|