Nothing can tell us,
not the shape of a stone
under our hands, not the photograph
which glass encloses,
the secrets we have lived.

This is the half-life: night and day
blended in us once and always
phosphorescing, a pre-truth

that slips and turns,
a globe spinning
on its metal stand—
all the random continents
made whole.

Robin Pelzman

Robin Pelzman’s poems have appeared in The Antigonish Review, Salamander, and The Comstock Review, among others; her poem, “Lunar Eclipse, Obscured by Snow” won 2nd prize in the 2004 Friends of Acadia Poetry Prize Competition.   Her work appears in the anthology, Mercy of Tides: Poems for a Beach House, from Salt Marsh Pottery Press.  She lives in Brookline, Massachusetts with her husband and son.