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

33 sLow waVes In flight between Phoenix andVancouver I let a stranger sleep on my shoulder. He didn’t intend it but his body leaned then dropped over like a sack full of sand and plump quail. I thought of the desert, my own thirst, but how like a mother, I’d never disturb him. He needed the rest, an hour, I thought. I listened to his breath: sea lions in their rookeries roll over stars spinning with night through a circle of slow waves, my own breath rising with his and sea otters anchoring for sleep, kelp wound ‘round our bellies While lightning jags through the sky the veins in his hands jump on his knee. I wait for him to wake, to see himself given over to a stranger holding a book with one hand, pretending not to notice him clearing his throat, straightening his hair, and resuming the low profile of his large Pacific nature. ...

Share