Senegalese Grove
A poem by Holly Day
I wish that I had the kind of faith
that welcomed the idea of death, of being sent
to some supreme being, Supreme Being, some God, that
gave Its
supporters some just, divine reward. I wish I could
greet
death with the open arms I’ve seen people in movies
do, but to
me Death is nothing but an End.
Known my grandmother is facing her own death, still
sending
her love to me from over the phone, it’s
making me crazy, how can she greet
the end of everything she is so nonchalantly, as
though to
say, “There is nothing so glorious as the period in a
sentence.” Her faith
has always humbled me, but now it just makes me
want to pull out my hair and scream
Fall 2006 Poetry:
READING HOPKINS IN PALOS VERDES
by Andrew Demcak
REFLECTIONS ON WRITING by Jann
Burner
THEY BUILT A WALL AROUND THE OCEAN
by Lily Bower
VISITING CAVE CREEK by Nicholas
Messenger
PUBLISHER'S NOTE and ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
by Benjamin Bucholz
THERE IT IS by Hannah Price
GEOMETRY AND A LETTER by Laura
McKee
SENEGALESE GROVE by Holly Day
AFRICA by Kathryn Wagner
DEFINITION OF A TREE by Christine
Hamm
AFTER MY NAME IS SPOKEN by Meridith
Gresher
SHAPES IN THE AIR by Carolyn
Syrgley-Moore
NEITHER FISSION NOR FUSION by Ed
Tato
CLEAVINGS by Hank Kalet
A PILGRIM'S PROGRESS by KC Wilder
WHAT YOU WOULD CALL A LOOSE GHAZAL, I
REGARD AS
ANOTHER SMALL, BUT NECESSARY, STEP TOWARD RECOVERY by James
R. Whitley
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