Issue 8 – Kristofco

John Kristofco


once a flicker in the ice,
a stand of trees,
patch of dappled grass
where feet had never stepped,
eagle, fox, bear,
then sanctified by bloodshed,
souls shaped in sunrise, sunset,
long before the concrete and the wires came,
bungalows, Buick in the driveway,
lilacs by the door,
tomatoes staked in tiny burrows,
birds at feeders,
facile back and forth
of glider in the turquoise night,
passing of another day