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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Hail, graphic by Marco Tovarez
graphic by Marco Tovares
Renee Carter Hall

At the height of the storm he goes out
to watch, and upon returning hands me
a hailstone the size of a quarter,

a piece of cold sky, layered
like a cell, like an egg from tumbling
through the lightning-cracked clouds.

Fascinated, I cup it in my palm, forget my worries
about the car and the windows, ignore the storm warning
still scrolling on TV.  I watch it melt, then

press my lips to it, tasting glacial winds and
permafrost, polar nights and silver snow--

and as the rain falls more softly,
the thunder more distant,

the storm dissolves on my tongue.


2001 Renee Carter Hall  


Chapter 4
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Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
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