fall 2019
Table of Contents
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Invocation
I hold your ashes in my hand
Angeline Schellenberg
Visionary
Nebraska
Katie Berger
Not really a father,
John Sibley Williams
Cherry Orchard Isabelle Ortner
Ladybug, Ladybug
Cristalle Smith
Concurrent Incidents
I Flip a Coin and My Life Becomes Her
Jaimie Gusman
Border Song: Within the Paper Spiral of Wasps
Janet Youngdahl
Powered By English
Y Pronounced EE
Meredith Quartermain
Dear Jennifer,
Bridget Gage-Dixon
Wife Lessons
Jody Burke-Kaiser
Now She's Going to Get It
Marjorie Silverman
Inherited Water View
Looking at My Hand I See Her
Robert Carr
The ice was coming nicely
Matthew Schmidt
reflex 800possessedmoments Edward Wells
Dark Night Full of Stars
After Trout in Siskiyou County
Bruce Robinson
Women of Trachis
Savannah Pulfer
{steeple-chase}
{grave-tending}
{declining dessert}
David Morgan O'Connor
Glory and the Neighbors
Untidy Ending
Lauren Camp
Looking at My Hand I See Her
It’s become something new—
I guess the hand is mine.
Skin, the color of too much
sun. Tissue opened, become
an island on the brown.
The distance between tan
and age is only a shade
of mahogany.
Four bones travel
to my wrist as I flex
fingers. A landscape
of blood, traveling
blue over back. (I need
to clip these nails.)
As mom died, she saw
a used-to-be-tight
watch fall from wrist
to elbow. An upturned
corner of her mouth,
eyes wide.
I enjoy my black hairs,
the gold. I am her son,
happy with the men
who want to hold this
beautiful thing.