fall 2021
Table of Contents
Return to Home PageWhen I See Lake Water Kristin LaFollette
i decay, bro erica hiroko isomura
On the Straightaway to the Rockies Great Grandpa's Grain Elevator A Nova Scotian Night Light Ryan Smith
What We Carry on a Pilgrimage Granada, Take Three Elena Johnson
Somewhere within Kostanay, Kazakhstan Justin Timbol
A wrist, a wren, a small knife Ellen Stone
Boy With Orange Phillip Watts Brown
latchkey fragments Frances Boyle
Say It Delicious Berry-Picking Laura Cesarco Eglin
Swans at the Golf Club Ruth Daniell
She's a Pretty Bird Susan Zimmerman
Between Then and Then Millicent Borges Accardi
The Graveyard Metaphor for Euphoria Kaye Miller
Late August at the End of the World Bren Simmers
Making the Most of Our Voices Ken Victor
No One Knows How to Be Good Emily Kedar
Upon Watching the Rotation of the Earth Charlotte Vermue Peters
Late August at the End of the World
Lying in bed
at the hour of sleep
won’t come,
the last ice shelf
calved, Greenland,
a cube melting
in a whiskey glass,
the government
removing mailboxes
to quell resistance
anchored in
each other’s arms,
it’s a good thing
we didn’t have kids.
It will continue
to worsen. Talking
the tug between
what we can do
and the inevitable.
Wanting to spend
these dogeared days
growing cucumbers
and watching the sky
cycle through its moods,
the bees sleeping
upside down on
the goldenrod
we let go to seed.