Notes About the Butterflies, the Moth, and the Sadness by Triin Paja I place a small tortoiseshell in a matchbox, beside the three others. It is the saddest matchbox I know. At night, I touch my ear against it. A silence. I believed there was poetry in their nearness....
CLARA by Ann Pedone I open the door under the sign “EMPLOYEESONLY”I’m in Santa Clara bleedingfalling in love with everyone who walks byWhich felt something like history The air churning through the air ducts seems“UNDERSTANDABLE” but not in theslightest, breathable...
Accumulation by Megan Snyder-Camp Two months after she leftwe drove to a cliff by the highway and broke rocks openat the shaded table. A volunteer showed ushow to pry the rocks apart like books,like a baby does to books, exposing one protected moment in timeor...
Jolene at 33¹ by Brian Clifton The speaker’s pleases bloat. A drum in the stomach’s soft pit. A guitar strung with rain. The name that spins within the sleeping leaps from another’s mouth. The flaming swells; the fire shrinks, the...
Sinter by Arah Ko I didn’t knowI was angry until lightning pulverized the stream and I feltnothing. No quiver at the flashbulbnaked river rocks water leapt awayfrom like a cutdown dress, red sea peeledalong its sandy floor. No tremblingfear at static vapor only a...
Cain by Christine Byrne Beekeep: unbekept – We were married in our twenties – Nobodies – I outlined myself – In the palm of your good hand – My marked stigmata – Like another room for waiting – For the simplicity – However unordinary – To keeping bees – To what’s...
