This poem is taken from Stand 239, 21(3) October - December 2023.

Joan Michelson Two Poems
The Forest

He tripped and fell, fell as he had fallen twenty years before, and felt the pain from the bullet lodged
in his right knee.

The night rushed back with the shadow of a moon. He was nine years old and had slipped outside the
deep-buried bunker to breathe.
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