Devil’s Lake

Spring 2012 Issue

Caroline Manring: However Full We May Seem

knowledge dolphins through us

like shrapnel

from deer.

In the A-frame, a projector

flickers. All is not gathered.

I jury-rig the truck.

We are capable of


If you must

be a planet, O,



the house


for Martha, the last known passenger pigeon, d. Sept. 1st, 1914

I’m rolling in the truck bed

wound in wire.

I can’t recall any jokes

so it seems I shouldn’t be

naked. Across the trestle, low as a grouse,

one hears rumors of freight.

The spring crow grows strong;

the hoarders’ hands

flutter & chime with coin.

“I want more,”

said the great Odysseus.

The singer has forgotten that,

& many other parts

of this song.

a photo of the author, Caroline Manring CAROLINE MANRING holds degrees from Cornell University and the Iowa Writers' Workshop. Her work has appeared in Conduit, Drunken Boat, Seneca Review, H_NGM_N, Sixth Finch, and other journals. Her poetry chapbook, No Postman, was published by Split Oak Press in 2009. Caroline lives and teaches in the Finger Lakes region of New York state. More from this issue >