Ann Arbor Review


Richard Kostelanetz
Karyn M. Bruce
Duane Locke
Lyn Lifshin
Rich Ives
Chris Lord
Anton Gojcaj
Donal Mahoney
Laszlo Slomovits
Alan Britt
A. J. Huffman
Bhisma Upreti
Ali Znaidi
Paul B. Roth
Joan Colby
Rexhep Shahu
Catherine McGuire
Michelle Bailat-Jones
April Salzano

Kufre Udeme
Jane Butler
Jennifer Burd
Peycho Kanev
Joanie Freeman
Jennifer Burd &
Laszlo Slomovits
Frederick Pollack
Fahredin Shehu
Holly Day
Serena Wilcox
Ndue Ukaj
Running Cub

Fred Wolven
Allison Grayhurst
Rose Mary Boehm
Michael D. Long
Jim Davis
Christopher Dungey
Bobbi Sinha-Morey

Jason Ryberg
Douglas Polk
Janine Canan


Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2013 Silver Grey Fox
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida

Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven

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In the bath, my son rocks back and forth,
a metronome of monotonous movement.
He holds a mouthful of water, maintains
a closed-lipped smile to contain it
until he can't anymore.  Laughter escapes, breaks
against his will.  Water falls down his chest.
I ache because I will never know
what thought from what far off place
is making him so happy, causing
this moment of pure elation, nothing
and everything is here in this room.
Sitting beside the ocean of his bath,
tides rolling toward a shore of simplicity,
home, evening, Saturday,
I know something, finally, of autism,
of what it means to be consumed by feeling.
I cannot break his beauty into digestible pieces,
cannot separate contrast of pale skin from
cracked-open blue of eyes, twin lights
of reflection swimming inland.
I am overwhelmed.  Gazing on
the face of God himself, I have to look away.


April Salzano,
New Castle, Pennsylvania


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