Issue 10

Winter 2014


Autumn gardens

Imagine being planted someplace long enough
that your roots grow back up through the earth,
breaking the mossy surface like a fish’s spine
rises from a calm bronze lake.

Imagine walking in a chilled silence long enough
that you can hear three black squirrels chewing,
hear their hearts beat faster when the raven screams.

Imagine white-gowned women in a fern dell.
Imagine they have gathered the light all of October,
packed their ribs with it until they are walking birches.

Imagine small bridges over a dry stream.
Imagine every leaf assembling there, red-gold current
of autumn wind running under the ice-hearted stones.

Imagine walking there, the chill slipping itself
into all your uncovered spaces. Imagine your coat,
your scarf, your boots, all held above your skin
by November’s sleek and blandishing hands.


Diane Tucker