13th annual Littoral Press Poetry Prize
This year’s judge was Terry Lucas. The winning poem is “The Color of Rain” by Gordon Preston. Production of a limited edition broadside of this poem will begin shortly. There are three honorable mentions: “Ayaz Marhoni & Mahmoud Asgiri” by Craig Cotter; “At the Veterans Hospital” by Katharyn Howd Machan; and “Sacrifice by Fire” by Diane G. Woodcock. These poets will each receive a broadside of their choice from Littoral Press.
Many thanks to all who entered the contest. Next year’s deadline will be August 16th.
THE COLOR OF RAIN
This morning tiny horns of silver rain
sounded upon the dark part of our street,
where my heart lies under a tree shadow,
that once, like a theatre screen, draped
the avenue so that the houses could
continue to go on believing.
The sun, brilliant,
rose like some coin in a history book, glowing
so unreachable that imagination was exhausted,
like a hot summer wind, not giving up, or going
home, invisible.
Years ago, a clear rain held you against
the white adobe of the Campanile our university thought
was so dear. And parading beneath the wet plum leaves,
I saw the silhouettes as they were, tiny umbrellas
shaking out
a crystal rain before entering that movie
of black and white, where I found you, sitting there,
far left from center, deep long hair glistening richer
than gold lace that tasseled the silk pleated
theatre curtain, rising, slow, and heavy.
— Gordon Preston
AYAZ MARHONI & MAHMOUD ASGIRI
The Iranian government
held a public execution
to murder gay lovers Mahmoud Asgiri, age 16
and Ayaz Marhoni, age 18.
They were arrested at 14 and 16, tortured 2 years
and forced to tape a confession that they were in love.
Handcuffed together
before their public execution
photographs show them crying
as a microphone is held in front of faces.
Instead of building gallows
that snap the neck instantly
they were hoisted slowly
nooses around their necks
and strangled to death over 20 minutes.
Mahmoud jerked so much
one of his sandals came off.
—Publicly executed in Edalat (Justice) Square in Mashhad, northeast Iran, on July 19, 2005
— Craig Cotter
AT THE VETERANS HOSPITAL
In Aphrodite’s deep and fullest hue
I dance again the halls of Ares’ breath
and touch the shadows, celebrating who
instead of what within these walls of death.
My ankles offer golden bells that sing
of light and wonder, as my hands reach out
rich rhythm-echo of bright zills that ring
the names of Love, close whisper to far shout.
How is it War can use a man like stone
to crush another, smiling proud and bold,
then drop him cracked and breaking, left alone
to crumble into dust as he grows old?
Again I whirl, my hot pink veil held high
to every trembling smile, each waking eye.
— Katharyn Howd Machan
SACRIFICE BY FIRE
How could it be that in 1963
one Vietnamese monk,
Thich Quang Duc,
awakened the world
with the lighting of one match—
his body becoming black ash?
These days, five decades
later, how many will it take—166
Tibetans to date*—
to get our attention? How many
strikes of how many matches against
the dark of isolation and oppression?
Already the threat—glaciers of Tibet
melting, its plateau warming three times
the global average, the Ganges swelling,
each humble heap of holy ashes
lifting up while the powerful keep right on
hardening like lumps in the throat.
*As of January 2020 — 156 in Tibet and China, and 10 in exile
https://www.savetibet.org/resources/fact-sheets/self-immolations-by-tibetans/
— Diane G. Woodcock
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