The island stretched around
her without water. She slept
in a tent, made fires, found
pitted fruits growing everywhere.
Tumbleweed was the closest
thing to a wild beast, careening
unpredictably. She found
her daydreams to be more
about hammocks than civilization,
she had no desire to write home.
Photo Source: The Knife and Me
© 2011 Caitlin Thomson. All rights reserved.
This month, enjoy four poems by the exceptionally talented George Drew, "a poet who, like his colorful background (born in Mississippi, raised both there and in New York State) resounds with an enviable range, energy, and lyrically narrative intensity."
©2011-2013 Atticus Review. All Rights Reserved. Website created by Chaos To Clarity™ in collaboration with Atticus Books.
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[...] from inside truth—is, no matter the language, profound and limitless, as Caitlin Thomson shows in “She Talks To Herself and Nothing.” There are no letters to send home when an old language is forgotten and rendered [...]