* — October 26, 2017
The Steeple
Krisztina Konczos

In spring the light lasts so long it strains my patience.

All day my heart is a book with a ribbon in it,

the wind a whip made of grass and flowers.

The cold handles my face like a mask maker, tracing my mouth—

I want to say that a tree is whatever makes the shadow of a tree

but the sun on the lake is the sound of a bell

and my head rings in the steeple.

If I had to pick a gift it would not be blue.

Originally published in No Tokens Issue No. 2. View full issue & more.

Carina del Valle Schorske is a poet, essayist, and Spanish language translator at large in New York City. Her work has appeared at the Los Angeles Review of Books, the New Yorker online, Lit Hub, The Point, New York Magazine, The Offing, Phantom Books, The Awl and elsewhere, always elsewhere. She recently won Gulf Coast’s 2016 Prize for her translations of the Puerto Rican poet Marigloria Palma. She is the happy recipient of fellowships from CantoMundo, the MacDowell Colony, Bread Loaf, and Columbia University, where she is a doctoral candidate in Comparative Literature. Find her @fluentmundo on Twitter.