Cool light
undoes me.
I am on the bed.
I am unbuckled,
& I want
to be shelled.
The light
across my leg
clips my pale foot,
the light,
tumbling out
my ill-turned window.
I am on the bed
& full of you
& I try to wash my tongue.
You make me dream
of almond
& advancing snows
& I,
I dig through
my body,
searching.
You make me dream
of poppy,
& when I wake,
the memory
slides out
through my ear.
God in the room,
& you are
resting against my eyelid,
calm
& soft whisper,
I hear a note,
I touch your face in the score,
I unfurl these years
& weep entirely.
-
Issue 66
-
Editor's Note
-
POETRY
- Lindsey Bellosa
- Chase Samuel Berggrun
- Mark Jay Brewin Jr
- Stephen W Carter
- Stephen Cramer
- Elizabeth B. Crowell
- G.S. Crown
- Jacob Cumiskey
- William Grenfell Davies Jr.
- Robert Haight
- Zebulon Huset
- Betsy Johnson-Miller
- Lillian Kwok
- Devon Moore
- Mary France Morris
- Dan Murphy
- Kathryn Nelson
- James B. Nicola
- Thomas Osatchoff
- Supritha Rajan
- J.C. Reilly
- B.T. Shaw
- Eva Skrande
- Catherine Stearns
- Don Thompson
- Ross White
-
FICTION