by Norma Cole

Leave the room
to itself. Compare it
to a sleeping,
living creature.

Time is the dark-
packed house
of this place,
the luck of the desert

into the floor of the desert.

is ready.
A light burns
wherever necessary.

Like skin,
like a prison,
each thought's
an instant ruin.

Leave the room to itself.
Here's a needle. Here is the sea.

- from Leave the Room to Itself
(Ahsahta Press, 2003)

Graham Foust has a B.A. in literature and creative writing from Beloit College, an M.F.A. in creative writing from George Mason University, and a Ph.D. in English literature from the State University of New York at Buffalo. He is the author of two collections of poetry, Leave the Room to Itself and As in Every Deafness. His poetry has appeared in Conjunctions, Fence, Kiosk, Phoebe, Verse, and numerous other distinguished journals. This fall he joins the full-time faculty of Saint Mary's College.