July 6, 2015

Lola Haskins


Every thrown stone falls.
But there is a moment first
as it hangs in the air


that the blurred hand
that tossed it will not come again,
thinks the stone as it flies.

from Rattle #47, Spring 2015


Lola Haskins: “Poems for me work like flashlights in a cave; they’re a way to explore the dark without dying. Also, because other poets over the years have given me such beauty, to the point of changing my life, I’d like to give something back, if I can.” (website)

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