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Issue 68
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Editor's Note
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POETRY
- J. Mae Barizo
- Aziza Barnes
- Stephen J Boyer
- Wo Chan
- Cathy Linh Che
- Rio Cortez
- Maxe Crandall
- Justine el-Khazen
- Jessica Rae Elsaesser
- Rachel Eliza Griffiths
- Monica Hand
- Ricardo Hernandez
- Paul Hlava
- Rosamond S. King
- Esther Lin
- Andriniki Mattis
- Vikas K. Menon
- Timothy Ree
- Danniel Schoonebeek
- Andrew Seguin
- Xena S Semjonova
- Vincent Toro
- Paul Tran
- Aldrin Valdez
- Jeannie Vanasco
- Tishon Woolcock
- Yanyi
- Elizabeth Zuba
Issue > Poetry
Mask Of Wires
1
Her face a mask of wires and tubes,
her one eye a cloudy Cyclops',
her inhales and exhales—twisted, crude,
her breath—my light—stops.
I sit beside her bed
smell her rancid sweat
hold her scratch-less breath
watch her metronome—rest.
2
As if, his hand had slipped; as if
it had acted with a will all
its own; as if it governed itself;
as if it were not sculpt
from his design, not his crime;
as if, he told the truth
as if, he were not its head regulator
as if he were not the bald bastard slime
holder; as if, he were not the dark
river snake, wriggly worm that
that struck her clay face,
as if it were not his mark,
his tattoo, his iron smile
for all to see; as if she
were not; as if she were not
my mother.