Issue No. 9 • April 2013
I gave myself a gift certificate
because who knows what I want?
I traded it for one hundred bridges.
We turn the house upside-down
in search of our passports.
A century passes
before we find them in the pages
of our children.
Too many bridges to cross.
Paths like rotting smiles, rat-kissed
tatters swinging loose
in the maw of some river god.
It has always been this way--only
your voice carries me to the other side.