Issue #6 ~ Winter 2022
Poetry
What They Carried With Them | Ellen June Wright
They carried everything one can bring
when one can bring nothing.
They carried everything they knew:
languages and dialects, songs mothers taught them
as babes and early blues sang as prisoners of war,
memories of their home’s terrain: mountains
and valleys, grasslands and vast lands,
recipes for how to cook everything
A Question of Ownership | Ellen June Wright
Apostrophe I
If I say you’re mine
as in I own you,
I want to own you,
to possess you—
is that love or
something darker?
Felis Ellipses | Jack Phillips
Cat tracks make ellipses on snow like a poem when they stop the silence goes deeper. Funny that Felis Rufus slinks up frozen creek beds passing unseen and that our un-bobcat-like stomp and skitter finds around each bend her spoor. We take our prompts from native snow…
Imelda | Cristina Legarda
When I was seven
a black sedan appeared
in front of our house.
My mother and I were spirited away
to Malacañang: they wanted her hands
and eyes, her stethoscope on a baby girl.
Declarations of Hunger | Reed Smith
after A. E. Backus
He paints a bird and a snake.
It is midday
in a field. One glistens cruelly. One tries not
to give itself away.
The fractal swath of deliverance
glitters in the ocean’s current.
Other Good Stuff…
