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FOUR WAY REVIEW

FIRST WINTER by Hala Alyan

Wednesday, 29 October 2014 by Hala Alyan

Our bodies are urns full of rain,
spilling during the harvest. The elders
speak of clemency. The army marches on.

We watch them across the ocean,
speak their undead name in our sleep.
Some of the sisters still make mosques

in abandoned lots. They auction their gold
for Allah’s ninety-nine names, while
the neighborhood boys hawk the spires

for cocaine. In the hour of the blizzard,
the devout speak of owls rising from
fossil. When they bathe, they hear

children’s voices in the pipes, open their
mouths wide to catch that scalding
song. Their wombs are empty now.

They name the trees in the projects for
Hagar. Snow fills the minaret and they wait
to arrive, finally, shaking, to god.

 

 

Issue 6 Contents                                       NEXT: Two Poems by Patrick Rosal

First WinterFour Way ReviewHala Alyan
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  • Published in Issue 6, Poetry
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TWO POEMS by Lee Sharkey

Wednesday, 29 October 2014 by Lee Sharkey

CIVILIZATION

Even  in  the  most   inhospitable  circumstances   there  is  always  time  for  a  cup  of tea.
Say you live in a cup with a hole blasted in its side in a blasted landscape, by a blasted tree
and    an   empty    barrel.   You   can  still  park   your   worn   down   shoes  side   by  side
at  the  door  and  steep  your  questions  in  hot  water.   Since   you  are  a  man  of letters
I  imagine  you  have  many.    As  steam  brushes  your   cheeks  you  may  read  the leaves.
Take  your  time.  The  wind  is  aroused  and  the  clouds  are  either  massing  or  clearing.
You have  lost  everything but not what makes you human.  I don’t mean your coat and tie.

 

SHELTER

The forebears have gathered. The clocks have split open. Clock hands lie on the ground
like bent utensils.  The forebears emerged through the rock.  They are  ruins. Dissevered.
Parallel  faces  frozen  in  profile.   The  forebears  are  listening.   And  there  you  stand
(I almost missed you),  memory’s  king,  an  ant  among  giants,  hands  tucked  in  your
pockets,  downcast,  with  a  stone  for  a   shadow,   waiting  for   whispers,  husbanding
wisdom,  at  home  at last  in an  old  stone Eden.   Whose  face  does  the rock face bear
and  repeat,  each  and  every — your  face,  God  face,  Jew  face,  membranous blessing.

 

 

Issue 6 Contents                                       NEXT: Trees by David Lawrence

Four Way ReviewLee SharkeyTwo Poems
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  • Published in Issue 6, Poetry
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STACK OF BRIGHTNESS by Rosalynde Vas Dias

Wednesday, 29 October 2014 by Rosalynde Vas Dias

What do you know
of the former

beloved/still beloved?
He lives in another

city or speaks
infrequently.

He appears
in the guise

of an owl, he appears
in the guise of a scrawl.
In a series of paintings—

peasant villages,
festive skies—

your two selves
are fractured

and played by
a bunch of characters.

You are close and you
are friends and you recede

endlessly from one
another.

It means you,
singular
, string beads.
You make a lot

of bracelets.  They grow
up your arm,

a stack
of brightness,

static of the
rainbow. You

(plural) used to make
omelets together

or something.

 

 

Issue 6 Contents                                       NEXT: The Smallest Man by Julie Brooks Barbour

Four Way ReviewRosalynde Vas DiasStack of Brightness
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  • Published in Issue 6, Poetry
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The Smallest Man by Julie Brooks Barbour

Tuesday, 28 October 2014 by Julie Brooks Barbour

creeps across the lines in my palm. He erects a house
with a tree in the front yard and a dog running the length
of the lawn. Yesterday he fashioned a weapon
from sharpened sticks and twine to protect what he owns,
though I hold no one else and there’s no room for expansion.
Once I thought an itchy palm foretold a windfall
but now it’s him mowing the lawn or taking the dog for a walk.
Sometimes I whisper secrets and he thinks it’s the wind
and zips his jacket, tucks his head down. Friends ask to see
my hand and wonder at the world I’ve created, but it’s really
what someone else created when I relinquished control.

 

 

 

Issue 6 Contents                                      NEXT: Persistent Design by Nate Pritts

Four Way ReviewJulie Brooks BarbourSmallest Man
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  • Published in Issue 6, Poetry
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