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      March 31, 2014Elephant Drops Dead in the RingAnne Ward Jamieson

      No stunt of his has ever awed a crowd
      like this vast sudden mound he’s made
      out of himself.
      Mommy, is he sleeping?
      The pink dot of a woman pirouetting
      on his head has toppled off like a sequin
      cut loose from its thread.
      The problem of his body
      lies inert where it fell, a sawdust blanket
      sifting over him, absorbing his circus smell.
      Our collective gasp
      rises like a stray balloon
      clear up to the big top’s peak to settle
      in fresh gloom. The children ride quietly
      home. Read us a story, Mommy.
      Hush.
      Goodnight stars. Goodnight air.
      Goodnight noises everywhere.
      Goodnight, Elephant. There there.

      from #41 - Fall 2013

      Anne Ward Jamieson

      “A while back there was an op-ed columnist whose work I followed in the newspaper both for what she had to say and how well she said it. She was a single mother. Then, inexplicably, the quality of her columns seemed to take a disappointing dip. But I read on and, one day, she mentioned being recently married. I was instantly convinced that explained her poor performance. I know it could have been because she was very very busy or very very happy or both or something else entirely but my immediate take on it was that she had someone she shared her inner thoughts with, someone to talk to, someone whose attention obviated the need to spill her feelings to the general public.”

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