Short Works for the Peripatetic Web Surfer
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by Francine Marie Tolf
We have lost our ability to name.
We say collateral damage, downsizing, factory farm.
Error in judgment. Extraordinary rendition.
We say sky, but we don’t mean it.
We say antelope, owl,
as if these words had power.
As if the names of animals hadn’t long fled
back into animals,
where they pulse like dark suns.
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by Francine Marie Tolf
“and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes”
At its center,
the circle inverts:
the food chain collapses,
the lion eats straw.
Yet tears are not reversed,
but are wiped away.
So necessary to me, that God
who lets tears fall.
Who touches a quail’s grief
with his own hand.
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by Francine Marie Tolf
Litte snake on the wet path
reared its head, red tongue flickering.
Like Saul, I halted,
astonished by brightness.
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