Weekly Poem: 'Crossword'

**By Sally Bliumis-Dunn** The white and black squares promise order in the morning mess of mulling over the latest political morass, what's on sale at Kohl's, the book review. Each letter, shared, which lifts away some sheen of loneliness I can't quite explain. This week, "arsenic" and "forsythia" are joined by their i's like long-estranged cousins. And when they ask for the French equivalent of sky, I'm back on a wooden chair in Madame Baumlin's eighth-grade class, passing a note to David, having no idea, as my hand grazes his, that he will drown sailing that next summer. I like doing the crossword with my husband -- Source of support, three letters. I'm the one who guesses it, glad he doesn't think of " bra" in this way. The puzzle rests on the counter all week. I like coming back, looking at the same clue I found insolvable the day before, my mind often a mystery to me, turning corners when I sleep or am upstairs folding clothes. They get added to pounds. Yesterday I thought it had to do with money or meat; now I can see the chain-link fence at the local animal shelter. Of course. "Strays."   "Sally Bliumis-Dunn":http://sallybliumisdunn.com/content/ is the author of "Second Skin" (Wind Publications, 2010) and "Talking Underwater" (Wind Publications, 2007). She teaches teaches modern poetry and creative writing at Manhattanville College.