spring 2020
Table of Contents
Return to Home PageHow Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Nachos Jessica Covil
Stem of Old French Creistre, To Grow Of Stinging Nettle Page Hill Starzinger
blue light Stephanie Yue Duhem
A Twohanded Cut The Tornado Cut The Pandora Cut Torben Robertson
Another Vision Patricia Nelson
Communion of Tongues Hege A. Jakobsen Lepri
Tchaikovsky, Age 52, Finds His Inspiration John Barton
A Symptom of Resignation The Gee Whiz Element of Tropical Storms and Symphonies Jen Karetnick
she is in the kitchen now Nora Pace
Monologue of a Fly's Shadow Monologue of a Cow's Shadow Danielle Hanson
Family Dinner In Which I Re-name My Father Poem Containing Only Words I Hate griffin epstein
Like the best myths Medusozoa Sarah Lyons-Lin
Six Gray Moons on a Screen Eleanor Kedney
There Is No Substitute for Good Planning Erin Kirsh
Breathturning Chris Checkwitch
sold separately Lesley Battler
Supermarket Lobsters Robbie Gamble
Humid Weather Me of Me Catherine Strisik
Moon Turned Her Half Face From Me Lawrence Feuchtwanger
Another Vision
It’s a different place without the fever dream:
The salvation slow and awkward, the sinners
loud and heavy, hauled out of the dark
like buckets, banging on the rocks.
The haulers complain, swinging the blackness
of their mouths, their eyes that glitter
weakly like broken stems or spigots.
The stars roll like wreckage.
In this paradise the stiff, cold blossoms
twist like knuckles over the undulant tasks.
The monster in the shadow doesn’t run or growl
or poke your hiding places with its fingers.
Instead it has a tall, blue eye that counts
and loves, but only as is due,
showing you the hardness of the truth.
And it speaks to certain devils in Hell:
The ones as curious as gerbils,
who scamper lightly over the damned,
touching their intentions,
leaving a dread as soft as hands.