by Keith Kopka
| She calls the magician from a payphone in Balisto to tell him that the world will end in silence. She is sucking an apple as she explains that there will be a day when all of us, suddenly, as if someone had pulled a string inside of us, will feel everything we have ever felt all at once. The feelings will start slowly; wrap themselves around our smallest bones: the ones in the feet and in the inner ear. Eventually they will move to the lungs where our secrets are kept. This is when the pain will become too much and we will all die with open mouths and our hands in our pockets. Her voice fades for a moment as she repositions the receiver from one hand to the other. In the background, he can hear airplanes.
~~~~~ |
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Causeway Lit 
I’ve seen enough in a long life to have a sense that despite the youth of the author, this poet has a concrete sense of what we can only imagine. But why the careful selections of person and place and method in the first sentence? I doubtless betray my age with that question. Or I still haven’t learned to read very well. The impact is impressive. I still say, “Bravo.”
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