The Sun Resolves
by Jane Rosenberg LaForge
The resolutions of the sun are not kept
in scrolls, but in the crux of the horizon
where the sun allows the air and planets
to leash it as if it were an unpredictable
animal. At daybreak it prepares for its
errands with isometrics, turns liquid and
medicinal but denied a font from a proper
oracle. The sun lathers, it skates and extends
until it has delivered to every capillary
otherwise glazed and suspended. I know the sun's
marrow because the sun is as voiceless as I have
become: blue as the origins of the first heartbeat;
green as a glister of watercress. Where its skin
must meet the blank wash of space, it sheds purple,
red, and pink exoskeleton, like confusion on the
tongue and lips of a newborn. I might guess at
the content of verses and pews, the hierarchy of
chants where I have been denied participation, but
I can still plead our case, the sun's and my own,
where the rind intersects hollow, fresh sin, the point
of death and belonging.
Maintained or neglected, familiar or foreign, well-worn or wild, roadways inform our decisions and identities. Their geographies direct the movement
of our lives and sketch the cartography of our stories. In this spirit, 322 Review publishes provocative emerging and established artists whose fiction,
creative nonfiction, poetry, and mixed media artwork wander the paths of human experience. A nonprofit literary journal conceived
and operated by former Rowan University graduate students, 322 Review is based in Southern New Jersey.
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