GAIL HOSKING

FALL ISSUE #10 POET

Gail Hosking is the author of memoir Snake’s Daughter: The Roads In and Out of War and two books of poems, Retrieval and Adieu. Hosking holds an MFA from Bennington Writing Seminars, with essays and poems published in such places as Nimrod International, Lilith Magazine, South Dakota Review, Consequence Magazine, and Stone Canoe. Several pieces have been anthologized, and Hosking has twice been considered “most notable” in Best American Essays. Learn more at www.gailhosking.org

MAINE

It didn’t rain the month I told you I didn’t love you anymore. On the edge of almost-too-late, we crossed a river and ate lobsters by the sea. A blue heron patiently stood by the shore. Mostly we sat in silence as breezes and waves came and ships sailed past the granite mountains that we climbed every day. Give me this time, you prayed, and I asked what will happen when we both die. We sat on the lawn drinking chardonnay from a bottle. On top of clover, I mentioned how we had killed our life, given it away piece by piece. You listened and I woke one night to see you leaning against the wall, your head in your hands looking for the road home. I took you out to the balcony where the waning moon stood out, and the stars remained still.