@

Snowfall: walking home.
We try for long days here, fight
the squeezing moon,

sharp-edged. We step
in wheel/foot furrows, dwell
in slick ponytails, clean white

collars. Contrast: fix extremes.
Hard to tell what is
and isn’t. Rimed branches,

coated grassblades glow
glass and I don’t. Watch:
the occasional raccoon, a father

with garbage bag and can
on the curb. No; I imagine
he’s a father. Me? Reluctant

mother without a baby. I’m a chooser.
Picture signs and breaking picket lines.
Shh. I want to be chosen

tonight. Come true, everything.
Starlight cellbright. I know;
that’s too much. But they both

seem so small and large. Listen:
Forgive it. Walk like your body is
precious, even if it’s just delicate

fear. Wrap yourself in awe.
Remember singing treble
First Noel: twelve years old,

long black skirt crisp white shirt,
hair a fire hazard. Tight
harmonies and bells.

Lines of teenage girls blowing out
candles, notes glittering white-
outs. Melt before you know
you’ve fallen. Walk home.

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Jaime Warburton When JAIME WARBURTON graduated from college, she said, “I'm never going to do anything dumb like get an MFA,” and then she spent all her savings going abroad, and came home to make more money by working as a barista, second-hand-bookseller, and finally lexicographer, writing glossaries on the American Civil War and higher level mathematics before deciding to go to Sarah Lawrence College and get an MFA. She is hardly a reliable narrator.

Jaime grew up surrounded by nuns in a New England family transplanted to Erie, PA, a city where they have a thing called “Rib Fest.” She has taught at colleges in Westchester and Manhattan and since 2007 has been assistant professor of Writing at Ithaca College, a school built into the side of a hill in the Fingerlakes region of New York. Besides poetry and academia, she likes kale and coconut milk yogurt, red wine, used books and vintage dresses, live folk rock, and boarding buses to Brooklyn. If she sounds a little granola, well, she is, but at least it's authentic: she was raised on brown rice and Joni Mitchell.

In 2009, Split Oak Press published Jaime's chapbook Note The They Cannot Live Happily; her work has appeared in a variety of journals, including Storyscape, Word Riot, decomP, and Prick of the Spindle. Jaime will be judging this year's Stephen Dunn Prize in Poetry chapbook competition and also writes about things like gender, robots, and fan fiction, as seen in the 2010 book Girl Wide Web 2.0 (Peter Lang Publishing, 2010). You can order her chapbook, keep up with her academic work at her faculty page or her poetry and reading schedule at her home page.

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