fall 2019
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Invocation
I hold your ashes in my hand
Angeline Schellenberg
{steeple-chase}
{grave-tending}
{declining dessert}
David Morgan O'Connor
reflex 800possessedmoments Edward Wells
Powered By English
Y Pronounced EE
Meredith Quartermain
Not really a father,
John Sibley Williams
Inherited Water View
Looking at My Hand I See Her
Robert Carr
Dark Night Full of Stars
After Trout in Siskiyou County
Bruce Robinson
Women of Trachis
Savannah Pulfer
Cherry Orchard Isabelle Ortner
Border Song: Within the Paper Spiral of Wasps
Janet Youngdahl
Dear Jennifer,
Bridget Gage-Dixon
Visionary
Nebraska
Katie Berger
Ladybug, Ladybug
Cristalle Smith
The ice was coming nicely
Matthew Schmidt
Concurrent Incidents
I Flip a Coin and My Life Becomes Her
Jaimie Gusman
Wife Lessons
Jody Burke-Kaiser
Glory and the Neighbors
Untidy Ending
Lauren Camp
Now She's Going to Get It
Marjorie Silverman
Visionary
The man who left me reciting the sound
of the fire alarm before I sleep serves
on an advisory board that asks why
this town has no trees. I scattered
the bruises, splotched neck evenly
through my memory like time zones—they hurt
less but stretched forever. All zip codes
balance turbulence and tradition and I begin
each morning asking why I echo
with unincorporated lightning.
The man who left me afraid to yawn caught
me sprinkling saplings with volcanic dust
while he stared into the municipal
park pond, the mold. The man who collects
swim meet medals and lays out his vision
for a community under a canopy of leaves lost it
with me. He is a thousand betta fish
flitting in a thousand bowls at the back
of the pet food store. He held up the angry
red one and asked why
I couldn’t dream of it.