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

LOST LETTER I I can see you here, your letter says, weeks before it arrives. You are as timid as an unsliced papaya beneath the soaked awning, rain barely not wetting your thin, green shirt. You could be any one of these women walking past—each with a dark umbrella over her face. You, where the rain isn’t. I turn to answer, but your ship has left for Korea, Vancouver, Chile. I have a lover, and then I don’t. Then I do again. This time you call, but the blossoms of cherry trees open in my mouth—sweet ghosts—tip of your thumb on my sad lower lip. Pittsburgh is the city of a thousand bridges, you said, the only time we split together—the snow kept falling over the windshield of your car, and I had no reply. When I have a daughter, I’ll name her June, you told me, and I knew she wouldn’t be mine.  ...

Share