Reverse drive

MIRANDA BEESON • SUMMER/FALL 2017

Your blue VW reverses from a tree it hits in Mattituck. You are 25. You come back to life, back up east on the stormy north road to the Shelter Island ferry that churns a reverse spume to the other side, back up the last hill on the island to our house, where the stairs lead back down from your room to the driveway where your two-seat Karmann Ghia is parked, first car, (first girl), first neatly rolled joint


GRAYBEARD'S LOVE SONG

ANTHONY DIPIETRO • SUMMER/FALL 2017

If I were a much younger man, I would write
you a love poem in which, while you and the city
sleep, I steal manhole covers, plasma-cut them into hearts,
weld, and arrange them as sculpture on your lawn—
or maybe I’d scale the polar ice caps, chisel


PRAYER TO SAINT ACRYLIUS

NANCY KEATING • SUMMER/FALL 2017

Oh beloved Saint Acrylius, you who were favored by Woolworth’s and Newberry’s and Lee Ward and so many five-and-dimes of yore, please shine your light on my request to God for forgiveness for my long-ago sin of making and giving all my friends those knitted (but mainly crocheted) vests and headbands and bags