spring 2020
Table of Contents
Return to Home PageBreathturning Chris Checkwitch
Communion of Tongues
Hege A. Jakobsen Lepri
A Symptom of Resignation
The Gee Whiz Element of Tropical Storms and Symphonies
Jen Karetnick
Moon Turned Her Half Face From Me
Lawrence Feuchtwanger
Humid Weather
Me of Me
Catherine Strisik
blue light
Stephanie Yue Duhem
Supermarket Lobsters
Robbie Gamble
sold separately Lesley Battler
Wrestlers
Barry Peters
she is in the kitchen now
Nora Pace
Stem of Old French Creistre, To Grow
Of Stinging Nettle
Page Hill Starzinger
Monologue of a Fly's Shadow
Monologue of a Cow's Shadow
Danielle Hanson
Tchaikovsky, Age 52, Finds His Inspiration
John Barton
A Twohanded Cut
The Tornado Cut
The Pandora Cut
Torben Robertson
How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Nachos
Jessica Covil
Another Vision
Patricia Nelson
There Is No Substitute for Good Planning
Erin Kirsh
Six Gray Moons on a Screen
Eleanor Kedney
Like the best myths
Medusozoa
Sarah Lyons-Lin
Family Dinner
In Which I Re-name My Father
Poem Containing Only Words I Hate
griffin epstein
Wrestlers
Matted down among other coupled boys
in cotton T-shirts, polyester shorts.
Heat. Breath. Dollar aftershave. Rub of skin
and muscle. Tangled in forbidden contact,
we can’t stop laughing, exhausting
the patience of Coach McKee.
The absurdity of touching my best friend.
The intimacy of holding his wrist.
What we learn in gym class: not the hip throw
or headlock, not the cradle or high crotch
but the counter-move. Deflection. Reversal.
When the girls return from summer, they hug.
Not us. Our eyes meet. We nod. We escape.