The Bridge Between Continents, Reykjanes Peninsula, Iceland
We are continuously drifting apart.
It can’t be helped. When we come together
our edges seem to fit, but there’s always
a space between, even when it can’t be seen.
Marci Rae Johnson
Marci Rae Johnson is a freelance writer and editor, and the Poetry Editor for The Cresset and for WordFarm press. Her poems appear or are forthcoming in Image, The Christian Century, Main Street Rag,
A Young, Cool Stephen Hawking Standing With His Bride
We go about our daily lives understanding
almost nothing about the world: her arms,
the black and white flowers, heavenly bodies
in the sky. This is my brief history
of happiness: someone loved
The Parable of the Great Banquet
I have bought 5 yoke
of oxen to mow the unruly
hair of the dead body
out back where the vultures
gather: leaves from last
year’s disappointment,
the stumps that refuse
digging