FOUR WAY REVIEW

An Electronic Literary Journal

Woman with short hair takes a selfie in a car window.

Two Poems by Margaret Wright

Memorial

who’s awake right now
in Utah      this cinema            
of long hair, God              in undergrad, youngest
              cousin in the youngest            lake, we’ll bring 

a baby next time, my sister says, we’ll bring a kid,
                            & then we drive away  

thinking about aunt 
becki, todd, black hair, long legs, strong 

arms as a kid, how he was

a loner but was nice to me, even then 

had one hand on  

time’s other mind, I think                    that must have been hard, 
though what do I know,       running parallel, running too soft, having 
this other feeling always during normal events like 

              looking someone in the eye while you both take your shoes off,
              just the feeling of being still                          as you are 
                            in water, mid-dream, the grocery stores

in Utah are so big they reach some third 
              state between open and closed, no

                                         AC, no elegy, no service

in food lion, where we arrived, arrived the way arrival 
makes you sleep 

Bear Country

The men on youtube showed me how to pack
a scent-proof plastic vessel full of food. Rain

slid the river up the bank; rain matted the grass.
For days after I hauled my belongings

over the mountain pass, my whole body
trembled now and then, could touch others

only gently. For weeks I wore the cannister
of mace against my hip – the bell, which,

dulled against my belt, sounded
like a peanut

in a plastic bottle. Today, Ben calls
from the hospital to say that during rec time

they brought out bowling balls as light
as Styrofoam. Someone somewhere has determined

just what shape and weight make a thing incapable
of harm. I can’t sleep, so I imagine I’m the metal arm

that manufactures them – makes only fantastic
whirring sounds while producing impossibly

peaceful objects. What I remember now is how one mother
in every town I passed through would say, Bear country

is coming, though never where it was. I never saw a bear,
but I do think I lived there for a while. Near meadows

pooled haphazardly between the pines. It’s hard to tell you
how afraid I was. How for weeks I paid attention

to every single shape and sound. It was awful. It was like
watching, late at night, the face of someone you’re about to love.

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