Susan Tepper is the author of eight published books of fiction and poetry. Tepper’s honors and awards include eighteen Pushcart Nominations, a Pulitzer Prize Nomination for the novel “What May Have Been” (Cervena Barva Press), NPR’s Selected Shorts Series, Second Place Winner in Story/South Million Writers Award, Best Story of 17 Years of Vestal Review, Shortlisted 7th in the Zoetrope Novel Contest (2006), Best of the Net and more. http://www.susantepper.com
Space
Death that hollow space
numb to the crow’s screech,
first pairing of lovers
forgetting cold nights
Hammers at windows
all bits of warmth
the wood stove chokes out
dreams gone bad
blue to purple
— you can make believe
Remains
Each morning moves you further away
to warm space.
Mine stays cold:
My sheets are frigid
My windows frost
My ice is milk
A carton close to crumbling—
And stinks, too,
when nearing the end
Marked
A map where the tunnel
is marked—
skipping
your finger toward
roads leading to
beaches,
verdant woodland
Mountains that glimmer
death-pitched
under an all-day-moon
unconscious
Your motive / desire
to catch the unraveling
The Galway Review 