Page 4 - Issue 162 News Today : Breaking News, Live Updates & Top Stories | Vimarsana

Witness my father who drives and hums the notes to a song I do not know and I            do not attempt to ask for fear that in asking he would stopto explain, thus diminishing the magic of his throat as we travel along            the Susquehanna. Witness, too, the clouds that resemble a hiveof bees, the crows and the triumph of their carrion, the river that could carry

I’m blood-hungry for touch,             ferocious in the body,             ferocious in my bones. Winter’s syntax. Every day every night             at home. Frost on the window,             steam from the dryer vent, the dormant orchid             on the sill waiting to bloom.             Icicles crack, hit the ground