Sentimentality



More than
to crest
hills

lowing,
emergency
means to blot.

Dogs
in midday fire
ask it

to
stay fast
the distance.

Neighbors
close
their coats.

Cold, I wanted
so badly
to please.








Mountain Pass


Nothing in us
says to watch
for falling rock
or love runaway
trucks.

Violence is
as quiet
as one
looking out
for another.








Flight Lesson


Climb
so many hands high

and wait for lines
to be

pinned
to corners.

Watch
the ordinary

wash over
beaches

knit
of trees.





Shannon Tharp lives in Seattle, where she drives a hoopty 1993 Buick Regal and is an MFA candidate in poetry at the University of Washington. Her writing has been published or is forthcoming in Dicey Brown, Dusie, Furrow, Rust Buckle, and Shampoo.






                       BACK