spring 2017
Table of Contents
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Constantly Looking, Admitting Nothing
Paul Douglas McNeill II
Dear Miss Parker
Dear Mama
Chelene Knight
Romeo, Romeo, WTF?
P.C. Vandall
Red Sarongs
Clementine
Chelsea Comeau
from Glossary of Musical Terms rob mclennan
The Lady or the Tiger? Michelle Brooks
Prayer For Our Past Selves
Esther McPhee
A Coke and a KitKat
Spenser Smith
Aztlan Travels Emiliano Sepulveda
We Could Have Called Him Joe, We Didn't
Juliane Okot Bitek
from Electric Garden
Amanda Earl
Singing in Dark Times
Bhaswati Ghosh
box cars paper plates annie ross
First Loves in Brevoort Park
Body Analysis
Erin Hiebert
Inside My House
Gleaning Stones
Onjana Yawnghwe
Romeo, Romeo, WTF?
Where’s the stout woman peeling potatoes,
the short-haired damsel slicing cucumbers,
and the gal bent over the garden patch?
Where’s the bunions, fannies and varicose
veins and where have all the vaginas gone?
Are they locked in some tower without hair?
Love is not blushing brides, rosy-red cheeks
and ruby lips. It’s not about passion
fruit, peaches, and melons, cherries popping
from the trees while ripe bananas go limp
and brown. It’s seeing past the watery
silks, slithering skins and forbidden fruits.
Love isn’t dying. Love is strolling through
dog shit and liking it. Love is not you.
It’s me and it’s over! Dear Love Poem,
If I call you Romeo, would you come
up for a night cap? I’ll pour. You drink first.