Issue 4 Cover_final_web Poecology

Issue 4



Michelle Donahue


San Juan, Lake Atitlán


Trees branch bare, stretch
like old fingers from lake.
Sun bounced, scattering
as if ghost touched.
Mountains rise to rain
full cloud specked sky.
The school, La Salle
has a Ferris wheel
perched on mismatched
wooden blocks. Orange
peeled green & yellow
paint flecked rust.
Egg cartons form ceiling
tiles in El Sazón.
A restaurant rectangle
carved cement from earth.
No one swims here. The lake
only a whisper, a lure.