
Treading Water
A sonnet by Peter Stern Listen, and soft waves of glass tear pink flesh, A diluted garland wishes to fly, She holds idle as pain’d salty tears thresh, They fill her ears: spirits ask her to die. A maiden travels down a screaming brook, Her crack’d palms reach for a blue salvation, Of our hearts, sin ‘twas the only shard she took, Must we … Continue reading Treading Water