Excerpt from Window by June Sylvester Saraceno

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The following poem appears in our Summer 2017 digital issue. The entire issue is available for immediate download.

The window fills with gardenia bloom in evening.
The humid air, my sister’s voice, this window
that I raise and lower across elastic time.

Some days the window is out of reach.
I have to climb the trellis that rose to yesterday
and disappeared in winter.
I build steps out of snow and pack them down
with stomping, with some sturm und drang, with salt.

It’s worth the effort. Every effort.
Even though I never know what the window will let in or out.

Sometimes a slight crack and angry voices engulf
the space in flames. Always somewhere a burning roof.

Poet June Sylvester SaracenoJUNE SYLVESTER SARACENO is the author of two poetry collections, Of Dirt and Tar and Altars of Ordinary Light, as well as a chapbook of prose poems, Mean Girl Trips. Her work has appeared in various journals including Blue Lyra Review, Worcester Review, Tar River Poetry, and more. She is English Program Chair at Sierra Nevada College.