Looking for Shorty’s Cabin
kept jumping up the mountain
just out of sight,
and stories to last through the winter.
stretched out between the pines
and there stood a buck, taller than me.
rooted to the spot. We grazed
each other’s thoughts across the clearing.
drank the melted snow
and pushed their buds toward the sun.
The End of the Line
to eat tongue and drink carafes of vodka.
I ride to the end of the line to come to Coney Island.
Not the fastest or the highest. It doesn’t loop-the-loop,
and when it comes to the end
two he was born with and four little metal ones
cranks the lever to stop the ride
Listen to Charis Boos read ‘The End of the Line‘
possible only because of the wall
undressing behind a screen.
wall, built by forgotten men
and can parse every stone they lay.
on the blind river’s bend,
like ceramic ducks,
playing the piano
and the blind river humming home.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Charis Boos was born in America in 1979. She was a member of the 2008 MA in Creative Writing class at Victoria University. She lives in Auckland, where she teaches Latin and Classical Studies.