Poetry:
Siegel, Joan I
Joan I. Siegel Interim The geese are gone. Silence has moved in and the lake creaks like some preglacial beast in its tight skin. Ice cracks between rocks, scars the bark of trees. The air is...
...We look at each other, then they go back behind the trees to someplace secret as foxes' dens...
...Only the beech holds its leaves, copper earrings that dangle, catch the low pale sun and shake...
...Whatever it is that makes sap rise and juniper flower is congealed in the roots, in the marrow of burrowed sleep...
...The air is stiff, dead white, pencilled birch and oak crow-black as brush strokes in Japanese...
...From the woods, deer come, one by one, ease up to the house...
...Hunger is harder than fear...
...Night comes early, pulls down the shades of the house...
Vol. 117 • December 1990 • No. 22
