3 Poems by Eloise Klein Healy DOWN Using my right hand, I point,“I can draw it.”I draw “Eloise,” but really,it’s the opposite angle. As happy as I am showingmy word backwards,my point doesn’t work.Missing again. GONE I lost my language so quicklyno real...
The Heights of Inanimate Things by Jane Zwart One summer the boy I babysatkept cuffing his ears againstdoorknobs. I know that makes him sound like a cartoonstooge, dense or insensible to pattern, but his hurry wasglee, he ran between rooms sure the world would...
Collection by Meghan Sterling All the men I pass, in their cars, in shops, are mine. The streets teeming with them, their fur, their wit’s end. How everyone is a piece of a man I’ve known before. How they still move through me, small bits...
Origin Story: Apollo Speaks by Esther Sun After Northern California (2020) Years ago when I lived in the hills, fog filled cypress gapslike words, like sons in doorways. That was when I carved my second...
Conversations with My Aunt by Brett Shaw That time of day when streets existonly in the grace of angles shadow allows— space for running; space for hiding. I can remembermoments I hung between that choiceas a child....
Before the Hard Freeze by Kevin McLellan I couldn’t do anythingabout it, swallowed a shallow lake, arctic one, wore a first barrette.Natural way to identify as female, right? My hair longenough. Also a first. And then what could be a last timewhen I move to Vermont....
