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Marylen Grigas is the author of  the poetry collection  Shift, out this fall from Nature’s Face publishers.  Her poems have recently been published in The New Yorker, Alaska Quarterly Review, and Circulo de Poesia. She lives in Vermont and works at an architectural stained glass studio.

Riley McAlpine-Barthold grew up in rural Vermont in a cabin without electricity or running water but with lots of time to draw.  After college, she moved to L.A., where she worked as an artist and painter.   Now back in Vermont, Riley continues to make art and is also a certified Bioenergy therapist.


While you were sleeping


all the old meanings swept

from their moorings, the meanness,

all the weapons, buffoonery,

your wounded heart.


Worry warrior, wake up and drift with me

in soft and softer shades of news.

See, we’re okay­­­—it’s only that this boat,

roused by some bellwether,

is sliding out into vast day.


Remember the baby’s excited gibberish,

pointing at each picture-book page

then smiling—the way I do

at any happy, hopeful ending?


Because all that hard-luck green,

the palpitations;

all the tense smiles, the wet palms–

we’ve left them on the dock

with our shoes.


Whitecaps like white curtains

whisper secrets of the wind

come to cool, not to chill—

oh, breath of some large creature

who loves us.