The 2River View | 25.3 (Spring 2021) |
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Ronda Piszk Broatch The Ground Is Hard and my Shovel Dull You ask, what is the color of history, and I can only reply I am moonstrong, held in a god-hand, fused and infused of beginning. The circle of light above our heads is closer are rucksack ready. Grandfather, when did you step In moonlight, loam glows, though hundreds of years old. In moonlight years march into dimensions unheard of. a cell for the language of spit and bone to reconcile And Somehow, We Arrived Here Even the air is sallow a sludge I’m speaking to my dead the dining table with its crystal to slightly more tolerant shores climb ghetto stairs Beneath on a few loose boards stretched for heat hands held to the flames Ronda Piszk Broatch is the author of Lake of Fallen Constellations (MoonPath Press 2015). Her journal publications include Blackbird, The Journal, Missouri Review, Sycamore Review, and Public Radio KUOW’s All Things Considered.
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