In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

  • Riparian County
  • Alicia Mountain (bio)

Once when I sat by the tracks on lunch breakthe Empire Builder, running late, kicked upsome shred of a green bottle broken over itsrails like a christened ship. The glass barelycaught me beneath the eye, but it cut enough to bleed.My boss clocked me out when I got back, wrotebleeding face by my name, so I went to the river.

They came around the bend, ripples at their waistswading the incongruous current, bare-breasted,bare as a parking lot. I knew their facesfrom a photograph buried in my wallet: you and Ihad climbed a water tower to see the city behind us,your brother (wrapped in secrets of his own) told usto press closer together to fit the bridge in the frame, too.

The twins of us here hold hands in the river,their hair longer than it’s ever been. What am I to dobut pry off my boots, slide the folded picturefrom its hiding place and hold it out of the water’s reach?

In the current, in the middle of town, in disbelief I call out,“I still keep this!” The worn image thrust out in front of melike some boarding papers, like some permission.The twin of me comes close, minnows around our ankles,takes the hat from my head and puts it on her own,sun making plain my face. “I keep it, too,” she says.Her voice is the sound of my message machineif my message machine was in love. [End Page 65]

The twin of you takes my chin in her wet hands, turnsmy cheek to look at the gash. She presses her thumb tothe cut and my nerves howl a train track through my skin.

Of course she draws my blood acrossher own face, an imitation wound.Of course it is the sign for even now we hurt the same.But I’ve forgotten how your talking sounds,so the twin of you says nothing. Wades toward the riverbanklike stepping out of a skirt and leaving it on the floor. [End Page 66]

Alicia Mountain

Alicia Mountain is the author of High Ground Coward, winner of the 2017 Iowa Poetry Prize (University of Iowa Press).

...

pdf

Share