Silvered highlights. Ashen clouds rendering
Maxfield Parrish sucker holes. Veined
greywacke mapping imaginary river systems.
I want to go there. Oysters on the half shell,
Guinness chasers. Ashy remains of a midwinter
bonfire, likewise the smoky start of a woodstove
on frigid winter mornings, its signature heather
writing against an iron sky. Hair salt and peppered
with age and wisdom, dappled with I don’t care
and let’s do it.
About the contributor: Kersten Christianson is a raven-watching, moon-gazing Alaskan. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing (University of Alaska Anchorage), has authored two books of poetry – What Caught Raven’s Eye (Petroglyph Press, 2018) and Something Yet to Be Named (Aldrich Press, 2017) – and serves as the poetry editor of Alaska Women Speak.
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