Submissions / Fall 2007 Events

INTERESTED IN JOINING STAFF?
We can always use more readers!
send an email to threeriversreview@gmail.com


Three Rivers Review is sponsored by the
University of Pittsburgh Honors College
3500 Cathedral of Learning
Pittburgh, PA 15213

TRR Poetry Booth Production

To Aaron from his fiancee:

This bright promise painted on our walls.
Great swathes brought to hold
and squeeze our love--
bind it between the sinews of your arms.


To a student of the History of Modern Poland from a student of the History of Modern Poland:

Your history reads in the lines
of my face. Invisible boundaries
crease with worried wishing. Hands
in your pockets spread lint and old
coins across the dirt.

You give them your silky cabbage heart.
They cut your body in three--
one each for the mouth, fist, and eyes.
I lay in wait across the room, the sea

for the modern sun to rise. Then you
come home with me Polish baby.
I will love you like a yaya does her
little doves. I won't share with

ugly Mother Russia. Touch me,
I'm your pescuda. Shake the rust
from your shoulders and make a home
in my lap. Let our lines run

together like the best human maps--
drawn with egg noodles and greasy,
secret kisses on the mouth.


To Erica from Kait:

Remember walking down the streets
checking out Italian guys
and how we laughed our heads off
and so many different things.
I can't begin to think of one moment
that I can label the best.

Gorgeous you are and always will be
when we get really old.

I lok forward to taking free tours
on the Port Authority bus.
I look forward to meeting you for lunch.
Ten year from today
I bet you I could guess your order
your drink and dessert too.

I want to tell you that life is good
but my judgement is impaired.
Life sucks I know.
You know that too
but we're living anyway.
We might as well roll down the windows
and boost the volume
and sing in high pitched voices--
that life should just buzz off.


To My Southern Gent from anonymous:

Your arrival is known
The shape of your body when you
Move to salsa


Another one for the Southern Gent (hot s#@%):

I wait for your coming back--
the smooth long drawl of your tongue and lips
slips into my brain, heats,
bois there--the memory of a
salsa floor, hot like ice cracking in a
mojito--the shape of your body,
the back end bucking into me.