Authors: Laura Kasischke
“We have to get some help,” she says, but she doesn’t move.
I see us from the sky.
A lime-green scarf of frost wreathes us while the sun continues to rise like beautiful red and yellow tropical fruit smashed and smeared low over the edge of the earth. Fog ripples the river like pink smoke skirts, and Millie just stares straight ahead, not blinking, crying, watching the weak trembling of branches across the river, something creeping through the trees. Snaking its way to us. The sound of strong wings receding.
, I want to say to her.
There’s nothing on the other side
But she still stares, lips pale and parted, and even the small blond hairs on her arms shiver with life as she breathes the musty feathers they’ve left behind and the sweet, weedy air.
is the author of several novels and collections of poetry. Her numerous awards include the Alice Fay DiCastagnola Award from the Poetry Society of America and the Bobst Award for Emerging Writers. She lives in Chelsea, Michigan.