fall 2021
Table of Contents
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Making the Most of Our Voices
Ken Victor
When I See Lake Water
Kristin LaFollette
She's a Pretty Bird
Susan Zimmerman
i decay, bro
erica hiroko isomura
Late August at the End of the World
Bren Simmers
What We Carry on a Pilgrimage
Granada, Take Three
Elena Johnson
Upon Watching the Rotation of the Earth
Charlotte Vermue Peters
Somewhere within Kostanay, Kazakhstan Justin Timbol
No One Knows How to Be Good
Emily Kedar
Say It Delicious
Berry-Picking
Laura Cesarco Eglin
A wrist, a wren, a small knife
Ellen Stone
On the Straightaway to the Rockies
Great Grandpa's Grain Elevator
A Nova Scotian Night Light
Ryan Smith
Boy With Orange
Phillip Watts Brown
The Graveyard Metaphor for Euphoria Kaye Miller
Between Then and Then
Millicent Borges Accardi
Swans at the Golf Club
Ruth Daniell
latchkey fragments
Frances Boyle
Now
Erin Wilson
Now
You are in your car in traffic.
Or in your work shirt, your smart smock, your suit.
Or you’re in the grocery aisle.
Or you are in your child’s room picking up toys,
the yellow and blue DUPLO spaceman
lying on his right arm (right, if he is facing you).
Or you are in your silk blouse with the plunging neckline.
Or in your red dress with its clever ruching.
Or in your wool sweater (the beloved one with wasted waistline).
Or you are at your mother’s house in cigarette smoke.
Or you’re in her house in the 2000s when she has given up smoking.
Or you’re at the OB-GYN’s again, acquiescing again, legs up again.
Or under your husband as he’s coming down onto you,
his breath close, becoming hot and salty.
Or you’re standing at the sink again,
washing those same chipped dishes
(the ones you swear you’ll replace),
scrubbing those same stained pots.
You are clearly in your life, vividly, standing there,
in the middle of it,
planting potatoes,
gingerly tipping their eye-sprouts upward.
Or releasing spuds, reproduced and earth-shunted.
Or it is snowing now, and you are standing in the snow,
your hair glistening, getting wet,
your larder full, for now.
You are about to open the door to begin your dissertation.
Your hand is on the doorknob.