Waiting

Brandon Zimmerman

All that is left is the waiting
Not a waiting in the dark,
But a waiting in the light
    that things might be seen clearly
    that hopes might be considered wisely
    that feelings might be felt truly
          without deception
It is a waiting that seems a lot like living
Not living incomplete or unconsoled
But living well, to have an abundance
    to invite her into, to give unto her
    if the dramatis personae should alter
    and chance, and faith, and goodness conceive
          a happy denouement

A Song for Simeon

Brandon Zimmerman

Lord, the cold is creeping in the narrow alleyways
making barren and inhospitable the old refuges
I feel it in my bones—this may be my last winter
Long have I shuffled through these broken streets [Read more...]

April Error

Sr. Mary Catherine Vukmanic, OSU

A robin sang “April.”
My heart did the same,
And a calendar hailed
The month of that name.

But nature, distracted,
Mismanaged things so;
She sent with the springtime
Not flower, but snow.

[Read more…]

Sonnet of Youth Departing

Anne Babson

Youth warns no one when it leaves the party.
It does not thank the hostess, then air kiss,
Then wave, hailing the hot night’s last taxi.
Youth offers no one a ride home in this
Weather, still humid and still summery,
But the wind threatens to end with a hiss
All the sunshine promises, the hearty
Picnic dates made only that we might miss
Them. The street lamp has gone all sputtery. [Read more…]

Sirocco

Fiorella de Maria

I can taste the dust,
Red dust of the Sirocco.
The lonely call of the Sahara, which
Touches the sun-battered farmer’s face
In the whisper of a breeze,
Across the barren Maltese earth. [Read more…]

Alessandro’s Ascent

Heather K. Thompson

Being a Miracle of St. Maria Goretti

She came
Into the brazen ferment of the times,
Like a clear sky over a glistening sea,
As enlivening as a fresh, earth-bedecked wind
That twists through the spaces between leaves and then collides
With the relentless bumblebee. [Read more…]

Shriven

Amanda Glass

No sound falls on my ears, no vision
soothes my eyes. My tongue is without speech,
my vocal cords are cut. I am deaf,
blind, mute, wretched, beyond the reach
of myself. I am six feet deep
in cold mud, sealed into my grave. [Read more…]