Africa
A poem by Kathryn Wagner
The thumb
of a preemie
made smaller
by a father's
disbelief,
the rattlesnake hidden
in the folds
of a Nigerian first-aid tent,
heard but not located,
anything
seen is minute –
unseen, colossal.
Fear knocks
the villagers upright
as fast as the un-
named epidemic
that brought forth
the doctor who has paused,
scalpel in hand.
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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