I do not notice one tanager
until the males' red heads
outnumber unbloomed flowers.
I forget to record the date
in a green notebook I keep
for no other purpose.
Midsummer, I awake knowing
the tanagers are all gone,
nesting now in dark timber.
I feel the sun will never rise
this morning, the known days
outnumber those left to know.
-
Issue 60
-
Editor's Note
-
Poetry
- Dara Barnat
- Jason Barry
- Robin Chapman
- Geraldine Connolly
- Matt Daly
- Elizabeth Burke
- Liz Dolan
- Thomas Dooley
- Lisa Hiton
- John McKernan
- Dave Nielsen
- Sheila Joy Packa
- Jack Powers
- Brook J. Sadler
- Amy Small-McKinney
- Danez Smith
- Karen Steinmetz
- John Tangney
- Ryan Teitman
- Davide Trame
- G.C. Waldrep
- Sarah Wangler
- Charles Harper Webb
- Mary-Sherman Willis
-
Fiction