by Jeff Hardin    
(Phoenix, Arizona)

Carrot of immortality, stick of perdition.
Candles in cups, sprinkly waters in gaudy bowls.
Smoke in bags, colored glass, statued scenes.
Ancient tongue telling you to kneel.

Baubles to woo, crutches to hold up bodies
Already straight.  And mists to dull the mind
In search of fruits from a tree we will explore,
Regardless.

Jeff Hardin    
(Phoenix, Arizona)

Arrived late from a wedding,
I walked outside to the porch
Of her parents’ place, still dizzy,
And lit a smoke.

Line of light nearby.
Zip of yellow – green across the way.
Starts and stops at impossible angles,
In the air and all around.

Parched eyes clumsily rubbed,
I staggered through the lawn.
With each step, a greater fear.
With each flash, a sickening glimpse of the insane.

Her hand slipped around my arm,
In caress, as she leaned against me.
A warm breath in my ear:
“Do you like the lightning bugs?”

by Susanna Lang

And if I do call the right name, if woodpecker
is the name I’m searching for,

then is the rapid drumbeat I hear
down by the river

an answer to my call?  Who does the cardinal
summon

with that sweet falling note
sung over and over?

I should be able to find a cardinal among these bare
branches

but even those flames are hidden.  And the sparrows,
hidden;

all but their bright voices.  Sometimes a branch
will dip and rise,

as if a weight has settled for a moment.  Sometimes
I can almost

see a wing out of the corner of my eye, too quickly gone
to say what color, much less a name.

by Susanna Lang

     — who would believe them winged
               — in memoriam Lucille Clifton

Today your crows are nearly
speechless.

Only one bird calls from the other side
of the river,

naming the bareness of the branches,
their upstretched grace.

You taught us to listen to crows
and foxes,

taught us to do the work that Adam did
in the garden.

When we did not find the right names
despite your lessons

you leaned across the table, saying
You know I love you, don’t you?

We will be more precise in our naming.
It is all we can do

when you are no longer here in the winter garden,
showing us how to do the work.