If sympathy is to share in the disaster,
then why delphinium
and amaranthus, bells of Ireland
these delicate, green fists?
Why not rebar,
shreds of drywall and plywood
why not brick?
Why not soot and slab,
to gut, to hammer out,
the corrugated steel of grief?
To gather you a parcel of wires,
rusted screws,
with difficulty, with troubled face
the iron and stain,
this reddened tincture of oxide.
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Issue 54
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Editor's Note
-
Poetry
-
Fiction
-
Book Review
- David Rigsbee reviews Blue Rust
by Joseph Millar
- David Rigsbee reviews Blue Rust