| By Ann Wehrman when I was around eleven my family shared a rare evening out St. Louis, visiting Nana — Muny Opera, Forest Park Yul Brynner and company July night, black velvet warmth stone bleachers cupped the stage near enough to see and hear everything golden red magic, music and dance Tuptim's "play within a play" summer night breeze blowing through the trees |
Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque UAE by Baxter Jackson |
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SACRED SPACES Reclamation Project #7: The Invisible Becomes Sacred By Ann Wehrman The invisible becomes sacred between us, becomes tangible; mandibles reach through invisible aether (humour me); the space between us, though infinite, stands— fertile, holy ground; the love you offer finds welcome and response. |
Towering Distance Dubai by Baxter Jackson |
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MY SISTER AT FORTY-THREE By Ann Wehrman long fingers, huge brown eyes, thick chestnut hair skinny colt until puberty, boy-crazed anorexic the next twenty years, Jane suffered cruel men's violence, unleashed her own, in return she stands in her postage-stamp yard feeds wild birds methadone has replaced heroin analysis — soulless, repetitive sex, but still she lives alone with no end to the darkness hundreds of birds come for her free seed, she talks to them, already an old woman |
 Ann Wehrman |
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