Current Issue Excerpts
The Wind Blew
He awoke in the night and the stillness
told him the wind had stopped.
Total silence was a distraction,
a harbinger of something for which
he had no name. In the morning
over coffee the wind began to blow
inside his head. Outside the day was cold,
but the air was leaden. Nothing stirred.
The snow was still, the trees stiff.
Only in his head was there wind,
growing in intensity like rising bile.
The wind he could neither still
nor silence filled him with fear,
though the fear had no cause he could
name and thereby thwart it. After four days
of wind in his head he walked away
from everything, left all he had,
except the wind. The wind went with him.
GLEN SORESTAD is author of over twenty poetry books, including the bilingual English-Spanish edition A Thief of Impeccable Taste. His poems have appeared in over sixty anthologies and have been translated into seven languages. He lives in Saskatoon.