2013: Mariela Griffor – Crisis

Poetry from the 2013 issue.

Crisis
Mariela Griffor

There are people whose feet, one could

                                                   claim,

              don’t quite fill up their socks.

You hear things. I see them.

You start dressing by undressing.

The candles go out when the dark does.

Days become years. Years

become places. Then you must go.

Thirty-three years. Said three times,

it makes a hundred. I can count.

You can tease a tree or a person,

not kill a frog.

Windy drought. A southern damp contrives

the economy.

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