Spring 2008

Table of Contents - Vol. VI, No. 1


Poetry    Interview    Translations    Fiction    Book Reviews

Danuta E. Kosk-Kosicka


The voices

are muffled
by the walls. Someone
is spelling: p i z r e n
or p r i s t i n a.

Or is it c o l u m b i n e,
the name of the fragile
plant outside my door,
with blooms like bleeding

bells with five spikes? Is it
a spelling bee, a lesson
in biology or social studies?
Mountains lie in snow.

They are singing do-re-mi-fa-so -
the mountains, the children,
or the sudden swarm
of bullets? A row of metal

lockers swallows them
and then swaying, kneeling,
curling up, the row hits the ground.
A river flows by but the limp bodies

stay frozen, only one man's hand
in spasm lifts up.
Will the old Charon ferry
them one by one, taking lead

as the XX century coin?
Over the deep abyss
where the hearts sunk
the banging on the doors

and the crystal sound
of smashed glass clot
into notes, do-re-mi-fa.
But the music sheets are empty,

the lines are treading to refugee
camps, the notes can't stay,
shaped into bullets.
A woman with dried eyes

listens to the silence bundled
in her arms. A young man
pulled away spells: h e l


Once she is here

we'll drink thick sweet coffee
from small cups imprinted with hearts
diamonds, clubs, and spades
that bring back the taste
of bridge playing on the porch
with sand grains sifting
from sunbathed hair and toes
flip-flopped back from the beach;

we'll pick out beads
to restring old necklaces
of amber and coral silence
our morning finds of glimmers
in the seaweed brought ashore
by high tide – sun beams sinking,
passing through the current;

we'll look at the photographs
of events which she missed,
see her grandson the first time he
met the ocean’s weave and roar –
his feet gliding
over the mirrored shore
his arms up
toward the sea;

we'll drive to the coast,
let go our shoes, imprint our soles –
left, right, hers larger than mine, parallel,
diffused where the sand is hot and dry,
deep and clear closer to the water line –
dig in to watch a seagull,
a sailboat, a wave
pick up a shell;

next time, perhaps

for now she is on the plane
back through time zones
in minute panes


© Danuta E. Kosk-Kosicka



Poetry    Interview    Translations    Fiction    Book Reviews

Website Copyright © 2008 by Loch Raven Review.

Copyright Notice and Terms of Use: This website contains copyrighted materials, including, but not limited to, text, photographs, and graphics. You may not use, copy, publish, upload, download, post to a bulletin board. or otherwise transmit, distribute, or modify any contents of this website in any way, except that you may download one copy of such contents on any single computer for your own personal non-commercial use, provided you do not alter or remove any copyright, poet, author, or artist attribution, or any other proprietary notices.