Heather Thomas: “Wallace Stevens House Prayer”

 

Wallace Stevens House Prayer

323 North Fifth Street, Reading

In the walled space between
red brick rowhouses

heal us, Sandman

sliver of sky and a girl

of half-risen day

who conjures in the sandbox
under a dusty moon

these bricks where

cake, fish, catacomb
winding and unwinding sheets

with the difficult rightness

of sand three stories down
to the black iron fire escape:

Heal us, Sandman,
with the difficult rightness
of half-risen day,
these bricks where
the redness sticks fast.

Heather Thomas

Photo credit:  frogmuseum2

Kathryn Hellerstein: “The Map”

The Map

A map across my legs,
I locate us between the creases,
tracing my finger across the double red line
of the interstate freeway
we race along. The white circle is
the exit we just passed;
the small black diamond, the one
we are approaching
in the middle of the day.

“This is where we are,” I say to you,
my finger on the line,
but I am here, in my leather seat,
and you are there, hands too lightly
on the steering wheel, fingers
just touching the bottom.
It scares me to hurtle through space
according to your casual
caress of our direction.

On the map, I try to fix
our state of being
in what I see
from afar, like that hawk,
a dark stroke against the blue,
circling above the woods’
reddening leaves
and one golden tree
stirring within.

Kathryn Hellerstein

Photo credit: Old Lancaster City Map by mitchgroff