- Weather Vigil
Tonight I keep a vigilfor my father at the other end
of the telephone, his breath the holesin our conversation, the wind
that carries nothing between us. He wheezeslike inclement weather. His voice dry
leaves. An autumn sidewalk. He says he lovesthe way the sky blanches
when there’s lightning, the sky erasingitself and reemerging once
our eyes have adjusted. Today he saidhe found acorns choking
the gutters. Then a cloud came up.Rain was already falling on his face
when he called and I picked up. [End Page 59]
Ash Bowen is the author of The Even Years of Marriage, winner of the 2012 Orphic Book Prize. His work has previously appeared in New England Review, Kenyon Review Online, Quarterly West, and elsewhere. He is co-managing editor of Linebreak and teaches undergraduate literature and creative writing at the University of Alabama.