spring 2018
Table of Contents
Return to Home Page
Grim Reaper in Therapy
Brandon Marlon
Dear Chepe
Wilbur
Melissa Weiss
Push
Armamentarium
Adrienne Gruber
Wet Parable
Duck
Carver
Nathan Curnow
Like André Derain
David R. Dixon
Trump As a Fire Without Light #665
Darren C. Demaree
an understanding
Natasha Zarin
Never the Desired Absence
Nick Alti
Ice Skating in Holland Carol Hamilton
First Ultrasound
Second Ultrasound
Stephanie Yorke
Sea Room / The Adrift
Exhibit / Queer
Lynx
Joseph Spece
drowning man is not a superhero
Aidan Chafe
Synonyms For Shelter
Jill Talbot
Cracked Fabergé Egg Of Yes
Lauren Turner
Naming
Cow Field
Danielle Hanson
He Ring Liar's Dice Confluence Derek Thomas Dew
The Path Discoverer
Taylor Bond
Wet Parable
We know Jesus wasn’t
a fan of swimming. He walked
on the water instead. No pin drop plunge,
no giant bomb. I bet his ankles didn’t even
get wet. Give me a savior who swims
all the way, diving beneath the breakers,
darting like a fish, floating like a loaf—
items Jesus knew something about.
I don’t expect miracles, I want to keep fit
neck deep for as long as I can. Call me
Jonah if you like and pray for a whale.
Swallow me whole as your wet parable.
It’s how it must be, I must be to know,
somersaulting my cellular self, complete
inside the ocean’s cheek, underwater
in a drip-free world. If I have to be saved
try dog paddle, show me a good turtle
stroke, or force me to the surface
like a dolphin meal trapped in a net
of bubbles. I won’t resist in the pouring
course of each elegant towering wave,
drenched in a tank of testament beyond
a statement of belief. Jesus took Peter back
to the boat, asking ‘Why did you doubt?’
The disciple blubbered ‘My Lord!’ in reply.
Peter never could hold his breath.