Anne Michaels

Turning Twenty-Three: Anne Michaels / Olbinski

You turned twenty-two in the rain. We walked in rubber boots along Lowther, the shiny street as albumen under streetlamps. At midnight, the sky suddenly clear we drove your jazz-filled car through cold, pungent streets to the lake where we collected stones by flashlight. The wind wrapped us in its torsions, we couldn’t hear each … Continue reading →