Magazine April 11, 2016, Issue

Poetry

WOMAN AT A MOTEL WINDOW

Frost from her breath on glass,

Thin arteries made dark

By a slow finger’s pass,

Are the hand’s speech, and mark

As something to be said

Her waiting emptiness.

She writes; behind her, a bed,

On which her form’s impressed.

There’s no one to watch her letters

Take form a moment only.

What secrets she has set there

Are legible to her only.

Is it the fear of dawn

Or something from the past

Still present that she’s drawn

There, where it will not last?

Each night’s a rented room,

Each thought a humid blur,

And dawn lies in a tomb

Scratching to be …

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In This Issue

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Politics & Policy

Letters

Bush Appreciated Thanks to Jay Nordlinger for his “43 and His Theme: A Visit with George W. Bush” (March 14). It’s a shame that Bush didn’t do more, rhetorically, to defend ...
Politics & Policy

The Week

‐ Bernie Sanders’s campaign is fading, leaving his supporters red, white, and blue. ‐ It is neither a surprise nor an accident that the latest major Islamist terrorist attack to befall ...
The Long View

Final Bulletin

FINAL BULLETIN The 2016 National Review Post-Election Cruise, Official Program Thanks for signing up for the 2016 National Review Post-Election Cruise aboard Holland America’s luxurious cruise ship MS Nieuw Amsterdam. We will be ...
Politics & Policy

Poetry

WOMAN AT A MOTEL WINDOW Frost from her breath on glass, Thin arteries made dark By a slow finger’s pass, Are the hand’s speech, and mark As something to be said Her waiting emptiness. She writes; behind ...

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