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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A woman who was fifty
but still quite lithe, transferred
from the closed Buick plant
in Flint to Orion Assembly.
She started as a floater,
learning many jobs
so she could replace absentees.
"Sometimes the inside of my sweatshirt
doesn't feel right on my skin
so I turn it inside out," she said.
And, in fact, her violet
sweatshirt was turned inside out,
with the tag cut off.  So how
were those special breathing fibers
supposed to carry her gleam
of exertion to the material's surface?
No matter--in an oil lamp
the fuel is drawn up
to the flame--not away.


It is simple to order:
a bouquet for the altar
in honor of a baptism--
a spray of petite blossoms
to suggest baby girls.
The best nursery in town
is on a neighborhood street,
the long hot-houses backing up
against back yards.  They'll take
a fresh Gold MasterCard, never used,
and offer you a banana they've forced
in one of those dripping quanset huts.
These aren't much longer than thumbs,
but go ahead--have one from the basket
on the counter, then sign the charge slip.
The flavor is quite intense,
just as the lady said.  But please discard
the miniature peel responsibly.
They have their own key to the church
so they can deliver on Saturday night.
In the waxy darkness,
even the organ pipes
will hold their breaths.


Christopher Dungey, Lapeer, Michigan

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