Hot Metal Bridge

Current Issue : Number Twenty-Five



She works like other alchemists,
alone in a dark room, eyes
half closed, listening. And if she hears
a chord, it might sound like water
dripping from pipes. Creaking floorboards,
thrumming walls, a distant train. Porcelain
rattling in cupboards. Rhythms take shape,
as if she could touch their contours,
as if a crow’s caw just outside the window
made the living bird beat in her hands.
Pigeons seem to pass through walls at will.
She can sense the tender brush
of wing feathers against her temples.


Christine Swint teaches first-year composition at Georgia State University, where she also studies creative writing and poetry in the M.F.A. program. She studied English and Spanish literature at U.G.A, and later received an M.A. in Spanish from Middlebury college. Her poems have appeared recently or are forthcoming in The Red Clay Review, Blue Fifth Review, Naugatuk River Review, and Ekphrasis.