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Vinland
by Jamie Ross
Winner of the |
PUZZLE A sweetness, she says, strange now how the air tastes, in these wharf- shapes that form the room. Like sugar into water, for the spinning birds, a kind of sticky pink and then the ocean, gray again, they alternate. Like boxes—waves of boxes, the black and then the white, each one lisping Give a color, just a sound, the one that goes across— Her table, with its lozenge tray, sea-green pills. A silent glass of water, that never will be emptied. She drops her pencil in my hand. Canoe, she says, eleven letters— canoe, maroon canoe... |
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