When the sun sets into the sea, it slips,
indifferent, under
standing ships, behind tenements, igloos
and the lengths of cornfields without effort.
We don't see the sweaty brawn of laddered, lunch-box men
who harness, muscle, prod with metal rods
and wrestle down the bleeding orb at night.
These are the same men who make it gleam.
They polish the sun with brutal hands.
In the first hours of day, their slog begins again to make it rise.
Pumps and levers steam.
They toil behind the team who yoke the moon.
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Issue 58
-
Editor's Note
-
Poetry
- Fleda Brown
- Susana H Case
- Shawn Delgado
- Robert Fanning
- Rebecca Foust
- Alice Friman
- John Hart
- K. A. Hays
- Gary Leising
- Matthew Lippman
- Alessandra Lynch
- Amit Majmudar
- Christopher Todd Matthews
- Kathryn Nelson
- Jennifer Poteet
- Sara Quinn Rivara
- Susan Rothbard
- Natalie Scenters-Zapico
- Grace Schulman
- Philip Shalom Terman
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Fiction
-
Book Review
- David Rigsbee reviews Oppressive Light
by Robert Walzer
- David Rigsbee reviews Oppressive Light