Rattle Chain link rattlesin rarified air, as the dead drag their fingers along rusted portals to worldsthey once knew and have now almost forgotten.I walk among them, some- times, in a wool coat my mother bought me, in my father's fingerless glo… Read on blog or Reader The Rising Phoenix Review Read on blog or Reader Rattle By Annie Freshwater By The Rising Phoenix Review on June 20, 2024 Rattle Chain link rattles in rarified air, as the dead drag their fingers along rusted portals to worlds they once knew and have now almost forgotten. I walk among them, some- times, in a wool coat my mother bought me, in my father's fingerless gloves—half-living, half-shade. I was not born en caul, but I see beyond this crooked gate, down the path that leads to the edge of the dark, dark woods. I taste the fear of unknowing—but the dead do not fear as I do: They know. They know. Hear, the broken chain rattling against the rust—what do you suppose it once held fast? What fresh grief has come unloosed? By Annie Freshwater Biography: As a poet and novelist, Annie Freshwater explores the ways in which we populate our inner and outer landscapes with ghosts of our own making. She holds her BA in Creative Writing from the University of Redlands and her MA in English/MFA in Creative Writing from Chapman University, where she was honored with the John Fowles Center for Creative Writing Award. She is a lover of mythology, exotic houseplants, and dinosaur fossils. Comment

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