Trying to Keep Quiet: A Poem Constructed Around Fragments of Leslie Norris’s “Borders”
March 15, 2018The border I knew best as a child was halfway over
the swinging bridge in Provo Canyon, between the shade
of Wildwood and the Sundance road, just opposite
Dr. Weight’s place. Beneath it, white-cold waters from
the diminishing glacial edges of Mt. Timpanogos fell,
jumbled along the North Fork, then moved on to mark
other boundaries further down stream.
