“One helped undo the rippled look of things beyond the pane. One called for writing on the pane. One seemed to aim at suffocation. One promised the end result of breathing freely. One made use of dead though iridescent wings. One said to drink from the mirror, while another took bowls and bowls of blood. One called for moss on top of blood. One required no words at all. One turned a black stone green with just one word. One made the horses bolt. One crushed a plant for the end of a sorrow. One derived a forest from pendant ghosts. One was a spell for no more spells. For cutting them down, and letting them go.”
Sarah Gridley is the author of two books of poetry: Weather Eye Open (2005) and Green is the Orator (2010), both published by University of California Press. She is an assistant professor of English at Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland, OH.