fall 2021
Table of Contents
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A wrist, a wren, a small knife
Ellen Stone
Swans at the Golf Club
Ruth Daniell
No One Knows How to Be Good
Emily Kedar
What We Carry on a Pilgrimage
Granada, Take Three
Elena Johnson
Between Then and Then
Millicent Borges Accardi
i decay, bro
erica hiroko isomura
Somewhere within Kostanay, Kazakhstan Justin Timbol
Upon Watching the Rotation of the Earth
Charlotte Vermue Peters
Say It Delicious
Berry-Picking
Laura Cesarco Eglin
When I See Lake Water
Kristin LaFollette
Late August at the End of the World
Bren Simmers
On the Straightaway to the Rockies
Great Grandpa's Grain Elevator
A Nova Scotian Night Light
Ryan Smith
She's a Pretty Bird
Susan Zimmerman
Making the Most of Our Voices
Ken Victor
latchkey fragments
Frances Boyle
The Graveyard Metaphor for Euphoria Kaye Miller
Boy With Orange
Phillip Watts Brown
Boy With Orange
As he peels, the bright fruit
shifts sun to moon
which soon will wane
to a single wedge of light.
The boy, his own planet,
orbits the afternoon
in dizzy loops. Sweet citrus
of another boy’s kiss
stinging his lip.
Physics says a pull exists
between bodies:
sun and earth, earth and moon
or two boys close enough
the tides inside them rise
like a hand
to a fruit-bearing branch
like a tongue
to ripe translucence.
Though Newton’s law
doesn’t tell what happens after:
how a boy should live,
which world to circle.