Connected
after Sherman Alexie
1. The tawny hermit thrush sings us to sleep. 2. Sings
you to sleep at least; I stay awake because I can’t sleep
on the ground like I used to. 3. Questions from a far-off
tree. 4. Who-who-who is awake besides the moon?
5. The loon answers, his red eyes sleepless. 6. Coyotes
agree, then wander off, gray minstrels. 7. 11:10. 8. I get
a text message from a friend I texted hours ago. 9.
We’re texting a sonnet, line at a time. 10. And fair the one
who listens to the night. 11. And I think of all the nights
I worked graveyard. 12. (I don’t text back because
it would wake you.) 13. Clocking in, clocking out,
coming, going, job to do. 14. Truck in the distance,
climbing the watershed’s grade, red-eyed driver
delivering something important to someone, somewhere.
Purlieu, n
1. Sliver of sky where Venus shone late last night. 2. Neighbor-
hood dogs not yet awake. 3. The only sounds, clear notes
of the cardinals and you waking. 4. You tell me again the dream;
5. you’re camping with wolves in the mountains, sitting late
around the fire, light glowing in their eyes and you want to be
home, though you love wolves and have only ever seen them
from a small airplane. 6. I move my leg across yours, tell you
mine. 7. We’ll finish painting the kitchen today. 8. Put down
new shelf paper. 9. Order out Chinese. 10. I want to throw away
everything we don’t use. 11. You put your hand on my chest,
count these new irregular beats. 12. You won’t throw anything away,
you say, 13. your warm breath on the freckled skin of my shoulder.
You Almost Pray
Outside morning cats
wend their way home
quick grass
slow under
eaves as rain falls hard
to gray pavement
hard as
desire
and you want to believe in
later, only because
of the sound of tires
rushing on—
The way you almost
pray
when lightning
and then again
when the sky
returns all of a piece
and dark—
And should it all
end here
you are small on a bed
the universes ringing
the river down the hill
rising, growing smooth.
October we
October we ran
our fingers through each other’s
the way you do when
trees
(beside the path
lay five small fetal dogs
their skin so thin
we saw the outline
of each heart
slant of sun like gold
through yellow leaves
our fingers
through each other’s
the way you do when)
trees let yellow go
Art Information
- “Night Forest” © pioregur; stock photo
- “White Linen” © Peter Morgan; Creative Commons license
- “Rain” © Marko; stock photo
- “Fall Drop” © Kelly Marken; stock photo
Jeanie Tomasko is the author of Sharp as Want (Little Eagle Press), a poetry/artwork collaboration with Sharon Auberle. Her poems have appeared in many journals, including Lilliput Review, Verse Wisconsin, The Midwest Quarterly, and Wisconsin People and Ideas. Her chapbook, Tricks of Light, is forthcoming from Parallel Press.
Born and raised in Madison, Wisconsin, Jeanie earned her degree in nursing from UW-Madison and works as a home health nurse in the Madison area. She is an active member of the ecumenical Benedictine community at Holy Wisdom Monastery. She has four grown children. Jeanie and her husband, Steve, enjoy the outdoors and venture out whenever they can via foot, ski, or a couple of paddles and a seaworthy canoe.
