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Issue 80
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Editor's Note
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POETRY
- Kelli Russell Agodon
- Heather Altfeld
- Derrick Austin
- Sam Barbee
- Michael Carman
- Adam Chiles
- Matthew Carter Gellman
- Stephen Harvey
- Holly Karapetkova
- Stephen Knauth
- Sara London
- Maren O. Mitchell
- Susan Musgrave
- D Nurkse
- Alison Palmer
- Doug Ramspeck
- Mitchell Andrew David Untch
- Joshua Weiner
- Jennifer Wheelock
- Ken White
- Emily Paige Wilson
Issue > Poetry
Rest Stop
Driving all night alone
then to look in the mirror
and see the others, washing their hands.
Low sky pulled over like a sheet.
Little bowlegged dogs.
Cheese crackers land with a lonesome
thud on the vending machine floor.
Tips of the sword leaf palmetto
say move along, tiny lamps
in the hind brain burning.
Atlantic Elegy
Lately her love's so
slender, width
of an atom,
but long and circling
back, spiraling, a net
you might pass right through
or just as well be
snagged on invisible lines.
Then you can only wait.
She will come to you
with last night's muted sunset
printed on the inner scrolls of her shell,
a smooth and pale communion
you were born to take,
host of salt and fire and death.
slender, width
of an atom,
but long and circling
back, spiraling, a net
you might pass right through
or just as well be
snagged on invisible lines.
Then you can only wait.
She will come to you
with last night's muted sunset
printed on the inner scrolls of her shell,
a smooth and pale communion
you were born to take,
host of salt and fire and death.