Authors /

Carol Gilbertson

Poetry

The story

We stood on a green hillon a brisk day,two small sisters in coats, singingtwo-part harmony into a tiny grave.Our preacher dad had asked us...
Poetry

Atitlán

I don’t know if it’s Kaqchikel or Tzutujil they speak here. I use my small Spanish to haggle for a woven bracelet. Mark and the girls wander off,...
Poetry

At Hawkshead

Wee Agnes Sawrey widdow & Dorothy Tyson Spinster do severally make oath yt ye Corps of Margaret Tyson of Gryzedale in the Parish above s’d beeing buryed the first of Aprill 1696 was not put ...
Poetry

Sweet psalm

Good lost word, succor.As an infant mouth pullssweet need from the breast.Sucker: that child,or a loser. Or a gull—someone fooled. Gull’s...
Poetry

Grace

We say grace before we startto eat good things together, as ifour thin voices could somehowdivine it. We call it table grace,as if it were the elegance of furniture....
Poetry

Ash Wednesday

no bicep, no bone, no lungand no cheek, so lean, noteven breath not even earth—humus, placental—nothingbut dust nothing but ashburnt up consumed—...

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