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Nightfall

by Victor Hugo (1802-1885)
translated by Jacqueline Michaud

The sun slept this evening in clouds of mounting gray / Tomorrow will bring the storm, and evening, and night

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Waves

by William Ogden Haynes

That bowl, whose waves long ago gently caressed / the scent of Sunday dinners, finally washed up / in the swampy cul-de-sac of my kitchen counter.

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Lilac

by Alexis Misko

I feel the kind of sticky / I should feel if this were Georgia, / if I were in an Alice Walker novel / with a fist full of blackberries / staining my southern grin.

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Orchard Avocation

by William Ford

I’m a laid off mooch / of a prof using up fuel / to cut grass close / around apple trees / where voles eat roots / and breed and breed / deep in the grass, hidden / from fox and hawks.

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A Proof

by Andrew McCall

My father does not believe / That the small things accrete, / That the infinitesimals / Lean together to form a whole.

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Give Me Your Wife

by Tony Hoagland

because / I like her. I like / the signs of wear on her; / the way her breasts have dropped a little with the years; / the weathered evidence of joy around her eyes.

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Goldfish

by Lisa Cihlar

Does it matter that a migrating tern / is standing in the Fox River / with a goldfish in its beak? / The tern is a Caspian with a lovely black head / like the back-combed Italian mobsters in old movies.

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This Isn’t Silverlake Anymore

by Neil McCarthy

I hear the slightly scratched voice of Joan Baez coming from / the record player singing about the junipers in the pale moonlight, / applause erupting like hailstones on a corrugated iron roof.

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Hearsay

by Carla Ferreira

They say in Avignon people dance on the bridge / that was either unfinished or fell apart— / no one remembers those folk stories anymore.

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How We Made Gravity About Us

by Matthew J. Robinson

Although we died the moment we met, / we believed we could shun nothingness / by getting married, act as a paradigm / for those just beyond giving up.

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