Poems in this issue   Linda Barrett Ruth Deming Jan Felgoise Marion Fox Angela Glover Jan Goldman Maxine Hobbs Grace Lynch Marvin Thall   Edited by Kristine Grow For more information about  writing workshops offered by the Cheltenham Township Adult School, contact: Cheltenham Township Adult School 1414 Panther Road Wyncote, PA 19095 Phone: 215-887-1720	Marion Fox Marion Fox, a retired city planner, has written extensive articles for academic journals. She now writes short stories, memoir and poetry. She belongs to a writer's gorup that has met for more than 20 years, listening to and critiquing each other's work. She lives in Wyncote.                                      The Year of the Lifeboat He and I are in a lifeboat. The ocean's rolling, we mustn't tip over... Yet when he jumps to his feet, The boat rocks side to side When I change my seating, Put my hand to the water; The bow pitches forward Dangerously low.   Some days we struggle Against currents, brace against waves, How we support each other! He holds me tight, I hold him. Some days we hold our own selves.  . "Take my oar?" I ask. He doesn't hear. "Row for me?" He extends his arm I don't see.   Once he said, "The boat must go my way   We move as the spirit moves me. Do we travel together? Or not?" I remind him. "We don't know our destination. Where we are headed It could be north, south, east, west." "Maybe I'd prefer the cove or the inlet Maybe you'd prefer the bay."   The boat turns round.  Could storm be brewing? "Look up, my sweet," he warns. "Dark skies. Wet smell." He takes action. "Out of my way! Grab the bucket, out the rainwater! Notice what we accumulate here." I protest his haste. "We can wait a while, my darling . Do we see rain yet? Could be we're in total fog. "   Now for the nostalgia ... When we lived on land, dry land, We climbed tall mountains side by side Drove fast on the superhighway. Walked through cities, Mapping glittering destinations. Inside huge crowds, separated. Met at the coffee bar later on.   Looking down at the floor boards. The leaky ooze threatens a freezing end. Still we evoke possibilities Couldn't we choose a different way? No oars? A motor boat? A sunfish? We could sit still. Watch the minnows. Hum a tune. It may be a matter of blue waters And not too many interruptions.	"Storytelling reveals meaning without committing the error of defining it." Hannah Arendt
	Editor's note:   At this time, The Tookany Review is accepting only the work of writers who are enrolled or have been enrolled in Cheltenham Adult School writing workshops. Home

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