next

She leaned back 

on the boat’s thick metal rail;

it pushed into her skin like wide-set hands.

 

She said I wouldn’t know,

that she could tell.

 

I stared off at the water,

yellow gleam same

as the air. 

 

The light looks just the same

on windshields as it does

over the lake 

 

is what 

I should have said,

 

lonely, bright, and sparse.

 

 

 

E l i z a b e t h  M c M u n n - T e t a n g c o

Sparse

 

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Issue 78

Variations on Absence

edited by Laura M. Kaminski

 

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