|
|
Summer 2006 Wendy Barker “Over thousands of miles in Alaska’s interior, patches of forest sink into thermokarsts and die as swamp water floods them. It is a frequent sight on the roadside: a stand of tamarack, gray, spidery, dead, rising from muskeg water.”Tamarack in old habits— firmness of permafrost's hard layers beneath— till underground ice pockets thaw, and earth falls in, diagonal. The sky no longer up, and roots awash in bog. Melting causes spring, and health, and sex, we think, liquidities like mother's milk, kindnesses that would be kindest if dependable. When sudden flood befuddles us, how to find the bottom, or the stars. |
|
Hosted by Web Del Sol
©2007 The Literary Review