ABOUT

CONTENTS

EDITORIAL

ARCHIVE

LAGNIAPPE

MAST

SUBMISSIONS

Two Poems
by Sara Smith

One day in 1945, however,
a massive object arrived on
a soft surpassing sight.

Standing upright.

A big steam by its naked self.
A small copper saucepan.

Excavating the ruin was hopeless.

I was leaking and he was swallowing.

On the way from dinner he said
information is a million wants
having a look at one.

For once he was occurring to me.

* * *

A Spanish freighter.

A gray-haired farmer.

The story hunted for days.

A big ship near shore.

A horrible rumbling.

All day the suitcases.

Take them back to the beach.

That night the village
blazing alight.

A few hundred passing standing
days.

Again.

The grassy floor.

Years later
she lay away the senses.

The stones rose in frozen cascades
around the crumbled.

A visitor who asks
receives what he might know.