fall 2021
Table of Contents
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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
i decay, bro
erica hiroko isomura
Making the Most of Our Voices
Ken Victor
No One Knows How to Be Good
Emily Kedar
When I See Lake Water
Kristin LaFollette
Late August at the End of the World
Bren Simmers
Swans at the Golf Club
Ruth Daniell
Somewhere within Kostanay, Kazakhstan Justin Timbol
What We Carry on a Pilgrimage
Granada, Take Three
Elena Johnson
Between Then and Then
Millicent Borges Accardi
Spatial Awareness
Amy LeBlanc
A wrist, a wren, a small knife
Ellen Stone
Say It Delicious
Berry-Picking
Laura Cesarco Eglin
The Graveyard Metaphor for Euphoria Kaye Miller
Upon Watching the Rotation of the Earth
Charlotte Vermue Peters
Boy With Orange
Phillip Watts Brown
latchkey fragments
Frances Boyle
Spatial Awareness
The kitchen window on the left
with the sink in front—
you could draw an outline in chalk
on the cushioned tile
(with: arms, pinky toes, appendix,
intestines, hemoglobin, ferritin)
but it may not help in the end.
Turn the room on its side
to shift your heart into a new
position one where blood
either pools or flows
like a river that runs both
ways. With the room in
view, move the chair a fraction
to the right. This will place you
closer to the sun, nearer
the airport,
closer to tenderness.
On second thought, draw
the body in chalk on the floor
but make it your own. Solid lines
for impenetrable membranes,
dashes for DNA, stars for
cytokines. A space
on the left for a heart that pumps
blood toward an airplane
moving overhead.