Forget Magazine. Remember, Remember, Remember.

We talk about others
to avoid talking about ourselves.
Rockwell Kent and his
Newfoundland Work.

He threw a stone on the grave
And we stood behind,
Watching as each of the houses changed.

He carved the town on that stone
With each of their roofs
Pointing to a star
And each of their foundations
Sitting on a stage.

You can see the sky at night.

When the remnants of the ice storm
Were plastered over each of the houses
The warmth inside cut through.

The frames of the window
Framed the lives inside.
Silver screens for what is
Supposed to be unseen.

Walking down the street
Hearing the after dinner sounds
Of dishes clanging together
And a cool wind blowing in
Off the ocean.

Now the stone has washed out to sea,
Falling out of fisherman nets.
Sometimes we think of other places
To avoid where we really are.

Lindsay Dawn Dobbin is circled in rings.