GAIL ENTREKIN : You, You Mean
ABIGAIL B. CALKIN and THERESA HAMMETT-STEINLAGE : Response (two poems)
CHERYL SNELL : Workshop
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You, You Mean Response (two poems) Workshop


GAIL ENTREKIN
You, You Mean

Working the shiny skeins of hair
into smooth golden braids down to her waist I ask companionably whether the 
tooth fairy brought anything interesting last night.
In a flat voice she says, You, you mean.

And then we are caught up in the storm
of school bound forces
as she rushes out to feed the cats
and the others swarm in to fill the void and the Susan B. Anthony dollar shines in
its own secret mystery under her pink flannel pillow.

All day the dollar shines behind my eyes, the magic of it, the pink glittered wings 
of the fairy who slipped it in by night, made off with her second molar in a purple 
velvet bag.

At the end of yoga class
we lie flat in the dark, savasana.
The teacher says, Experience the joy of all you have.
And the fairy flits across the dark bank of the moonlit river of my heart on her way 
to another, younger child.

From GAIL ENTREKIN's book, Change (will do you no good) 
(Poetic Matrix Press, 2005). 'You, You Mean' previously published in 
The Alembic, Spring 2005 and also in Pinyon, Spring 2005.

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I have many things to write unto you but I will not write with pen and ink
--JOHN the theologian

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You, You Mean Response (two poems) Workshop


ABIGAIL B. CALKIN and THERESA HAMMETT-STEINLAGE 
Response (two poems)
Response
Abigail B. Calkin


As the sun shimmers
Waves wash the brine from our soul
Clouds wrap around us

Fold over purple
mountains, hide the sky from us:
An easterly blows.

Our soul turned inside out
Rinsed in salt
We hold out hands to friends
Invisible before this day.

We stand at Union Square
Chinatown, City Hall
Fly over to land at JFK, LaGuardia,
Smell the stone dust bone
Asphalt wire rebar
That dirt metal and death odor
Seeps into our nostrils,
Tongue, teeth, skin.  
  
As the sun shimmers
Waves wash the brine from our soul
Clouds wrap around us

Fold over purple
mountains, hide the sky from us:
An easterly blows.
	
		
Response
Theresa Hammett-Steinlage
 
Ishmael!
Mt. Sinai is constant.
Christ knew.
After him Mohamed, the Ishmaelite knew.
Thou shalt not kill! 
You came before. Your mother
Hagar the Egyptian was scorned.
Bore you for Abram -
Her reward the desert's dust -
Abandoned son
You screamed your infant's rage until
Angels wept.
Ishmael!
Where is an angel?
We are no sons of Hagar.
Nor daughters - cloistered - disguised - despised.
Penance paid?
Redemption gained?
Ishmael!
You are the child of Abram too.
Hagar's milk is bitter.
Sands sting
Traveling on a western wind 
We all burn.
Your children too.
Ishmael, there is no desert.
It is an ocean filled with the bitter milk of
Tears.
			
		
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Poetry endangers the established order  of the soul - Plato

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You, You Mean Response (two poems) Workshop


CHERYL SNELL
Workshop 
A welcome open to interpretation - the KEEP OUT on a child’s bedroom door, characters crafted above a foreigner church. Someone else’s language, not spoken here. Three of the committee sprawl in donated chairs, amid an architecture of books and papers. They start at my entrance as if caught in an unpopular opinion. I keep my back to the door; the woman’s sneer speaks louder than her unpainted lips. How does a child make a friend? A tap on the shoulder and off they go - twinning through time, thick-skinned with quirks, never bothering with antagonist arguments about sun-storms versus the blinding rain.
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GAIL ENTREKIN : You, You Mean
ABIGAIL B. CALKIN and THERESA HAMMETT-STEINLAGE : Response (two poems)
CHERYL SNELL : Workshop

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