spring 2020
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Monologue of a Fly's Shadow
Monologue of a Cow's Shadow
Danielle Hanson
she is in the kitchen now
Nora Pace
Supermarket Lobsters
Robbie Gamble
Six Gray Moons on a Screen
Eleanor Kedney
Humid Weather
Me of Me
Catherine Strisik
A Twohanded Cut
The Tornado Cut
The Pandora Cut
Torben Robertson
blue light
Stephanie Yue Duhem
Breathturning Chris Checkwitch
There Is No Substitute for Good Planning
Erin Kirsh
How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Nachos
Jessica Covil
A Symptom of Resignation
The Gee Whiz Element of Tropical Storms and Symphonies
Jen Karetnick
Tchaikovsky, Age 52, Finds His Inspiration
John Barton
Family Dinner
In Which I Re-name My Father
Poem Containing Only Words I Hate
griffin epstein
Moon Turned Her Half Face From Me
Lawrence Feuchtwanger
Stem of Old French Creistre, To Grow
Of Stinging Nettle
Page Hill Starzinger
Like the best myths
Medusozoa
Sarah Lyons-Lin
Communion of Tongues
Hege A. Jakobsen Lepri
Another Vision
Patricia Nelson
sold separately Lesley Battler
Monologue of a Fly’s Shadow
—after Eduardo Corral
My master flies and alights, flies
and alights, and I yoyo,
constantly dragged to the next.
When my master lands on a meal,
fleshy half-spoiled fruit or the rotting
meat of death, I am solidly in it,
covered in muck, unable
to fly. When the rains come,
I disappear with the light, unable
to get clean. One day, a hand will
land and my master will become covered in me.