Ann Arbor Review


Duane Locke
Elisavietta Ritchie
Sam Cornish
Alan Britt
Shutta Crum
Joseph McNair
Geoffrey Philip
Lazlo Slomovits
Gerald Clark
Chris Lord
Coleman Barks
Marisella Veiga
Joanie Freeman
Dave Etter
Steve Barfield
Michael D. Long
Karyn M. Wolven
Running Cub

Silvia Scheibli


It is all that you will ever have.
A collection of love poems
the secrets you have bound us to
the moments that linger there
in the darkened rooms of your house.
We are stragglers at the end
of your parade, the voiceless women
who have wandered in & out
of your history.

You can name us all
spread us across your bed
like paper dolls, lifeless figures
decorated only by your fantasies.
You know death well
the ritual of anointing
the silent procession to your room
embalming us with the sound of your
voice & your touch.
You bury us more than once
there in your need
there in the shadows
of your dreams.


the morning hours fill with fog
& the distant rhythm of the river
reaching up to touch the brown earth
& tangled roots dangling
from a stagnant sky

water drips from the sink faucet
to the rusted enamel
& I wonder about vegetables
& love

the small orange cat in the flower box
steps over the geraniums
alternating reds & pinks
simple intervals
like counting yellowed shadows
across a kitchen wall


Karyn M. Wolven, Biscayne Park, Florida

Ann Arbor Review   |   Home    |   next  |  previous |  Back to Top