Light snow, bare branches.
It’s easier now to see
Deep into the woods,
Loss upon loss settling
Under a lattice of ice.
Phillis Levin is the author of six poetry collections, including An Anthology of Rain and Mr. Memory & Other Poems, a finalist for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize. She is the editor of The Penguin Book of the Sonnet.
JENNIFER ACKER
"My horse was called Emmy, short for Emerald Star. Dad’s more mature, larger mount was named Sassafras, which he shortened to Sassy. If we hadn’t taken these girls home, they’d have been shipped to the glue factory. A pony may be the birthday wish of many young girls, and I was no exception.
ELSA LYONS
Then I understood. Ellen was translucent. It wasn’t just her skin; all of her was less solid, almost ghostly. One day she might be totally transparent. And then what? How could Dr. Lopez have missed this? And Andrew? Well, it was still very slight. Maybe only a mother could notice something so subtle.
SASHA BURSHTEYN
The slagheap dominates / the landscape. A new kurgan / for a new age. High grave, waste mound. / To think of life / among the mountains— / that clean, clear air— / and realize that you’ve been breathing / shit. Plant trees / around the spoil tip! Appreciate / the unnatural charm! Green fold, / gray pile.
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