April Light

The Iowa Review - - NEWS - Dobby gib­son

The movers have ar­rived, ter­ri­fied of books. Maybe spooked by the bird feeder on its side, spilled cham­pagne coupe of a sod­den god, aban­doned at the curb with a mat­tress,

as if some­one has out­grown sleep. The last snow re­treats into the earth to wait us out, or does it? We can’t be sure. Swim lesson reg­is­tra­tion is full. Raise the win­dow just enough to let in

the pre­sent tense: where are the cow­ards now? In the park, they pull the tarp off the carousel. It turns out our dreams don’t change much. A pur­ple ele­phant chases a pink sea horse in cir­cles,

four white stal­lions pull an empty char­iot to the spot where even the youngest know to wait.

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