USA, an excerpt


We the people come from all places.
We don’t talk to each other, or maybe we say,
my God, would you look at that,
because here is a moose beside a log,
beside the dead trees.
Let us stop our cars and gape as if an accident has happened here
because an accident has brought us together.

We the people, from all different worlds
coming together to march out of cars,
move our limbs and walk toward the antlers
in the chilly air, bearing binoculars.

Some of us, when we are done,
will get back in our cars and drive on.
We will have nothing, really, to say –
but we took photographs. We’ll remember it that way.

About the author

Elisabeth currently lives in Chicago where she sings, doodles and learns how to play the cello and keep her plants alive. She's had bits…

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Issue 15 · June 2012

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