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JENNIFER COMPTON
Thirsty			


I must have water. I must have water. 
I crave coffee! O coffee! You do not do 
any more! You do not do it for me! Is 
this sad, so sad? I drink water. Cool. 
Cool me. This heat this heat! From the 
inside out. I burn it. My choice to burn. 
It seems. I imagine Rome. I shall take 
my menopause to Rome and burn it 
there. I shall take my heat to Rome. 
When it is done I shall be empty, cool. 
--- copyright JENNIFER COMPTON

'Thirsty' was previously published by Quadrant (Australia) Poesia (Italy) and by Valley Micropress (New Zealand); published here with the permission from the poet.

REPAIR: Concourse or confluence of people at or in a place; resort, frequent or habitual going; making one's way; to arrive; to dwell; to heal, to cure, to recover; to renew; (AND!) to fix to original condition. Oxford English Dictionary

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CHINLAND

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LYN LIFSHIN ALL ABOUT ME
Have You Ever Gone Back			


to where you were at 15, a 
star at least in your day dreams?
You think about the people
you were with, the fat girl, 
Judy Scott who did things with
boys you never dreamed of. 
Imagine the middle aged in a
condo or worse. Today in the
Science Museum, I'm amazed 
how young so many people
are which of course I was
with my exhibit on The Eye.
Can't you admit you'd like to
be on display in a museum like
that? Be in a wilderness diorama
or have your own exhibit not so
different from a new prize
winning book? Looking out,
I'm astonished how blue the 
river is, the same one my mother 
paddled down and the posed
with the man she couldn't 
marry tho he signed the photo
graph "to my angel." Don't you
wonder sometimes, not just at 
science parks or metros,  how 
very very young so many
are? I think of myself with
my science exhibit spread out,
an enormous papier mache
model eye half shouting
"Look at me." Sometimes I 
can't believe I'm not still
that Rosalyn Diane, looking
ahead, as my mother must
have on the Charles, to some
one small whose name she 
would hang on to her wrists
and legs and when she could 
no longer hold them, go
on to write that she had

--- copyright LYN LIFSHIN ALL ABOUT ME
Most confessional poems begin with a 'person' and that 'person's recollection'; LYN LIFSHIN begins where she ends - going back to '15'. It's a vague post-adolescent age approaching the promise of 16 (driving, hanging out, dating a boyfriend). In a very real sense the poet is asking the reader to 'go back' to another time...and, subtly, also to 'go back' to the beginning of ALL ABOUT ME series. If you follow LYNSHIN's suggestion, the Woman in Saudi Arabia becomes another kind of fantasy... that of a young woman trapped by circumstance into a restricted role.

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DIANE PAYNE
Real Food


Chicken popping in hot oil, green beans bobbing beneath boiling water.
No Hamburger Helper tonight. Real food. Kids outside playing while wife
looks out the window, waiting for her husband. He said he'd be on time
tonight. Says that every night.

After a few beers and shots of whiskey, the father returns. Relieved he
didn't kill anyone driving home, the wife will add an additional thanks
to tonite's prayer.

From the pans to the plates, food is passed around this family of five
without a word spoken. Just the sound of spoons clanking on metal and
the slush of food landing on mellomac plates.

The children eat quickly, hoping to finish a meal without angering their
father. Chicken makes him happy.

He looks at his eight year old daughter, gives her a big toothless grin,
then pulls the chicken tail off and drops it in her milk. "Drink up,"
he laughs. Excited, he puts his cigarette out in her mashed potatoes.
"Eat everything on your plate. I paid good money for this food."

One by one, they leave the table, except for the girl. She watches the
chicken tail floating on milk, the ashes resting on potatoes, wishing
she could sink beneath the soggy green beans.

--- copyright DIANE PAYNE. "Real Food" was previously published on poetryrepairs 02.01:006

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