spring 2020
Table of Contents
Return to Home Pagesold separately Lesley Battler
How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Nachos Jessica Covil
Humid Weather Me of Me Catherine Strisik
A Twohanded Cut The Tornado Cut The Pandora Cut Torben Robertson
Communion of Tongues Hege A. Jakobsen Lepri
Another Vision Patricia Nelson
Like the best myths Medusozoa Sarah Lyons-Lin
Stem of Old French Creistre, To Grow Of Stinging Nettle Page Hill Starzinger
she is in the kitchen now Nora Pace
Six Gray Moons on a Screen Eleanor Kedney
Breathturning Chris Checkwitch
The Star Diane Tucker
A Symptom of Resignation The Gee Whiz Element of Tropical Storms and Symphonies Jen Karetnick
Monologue of a Fly's Shadow Monologue of a Cow's Shadow Danielle Hanson
Moon Turned Her Half Face From Me Lawrence Feuchtwanger
Tchaikovsky, Age 52, Finds His Inspiration John Barton
There Is No Substitute for Good Planning Erin Kirsh
Supermarket Lobsters Robbie Gamble
blue light Stephanie Yue Duhem
Family Dinner In Which I Re-name My Father Poem Containing Only Words I Hate griffin epstein
The Star
Backstage hallway, late.
I waited for my chorus boy
romance, his brown arms.
The silence after a show
is a black silence, a threat
that spreads like oil.
Into my wait, wandered
the star, a man too beautiful
to risk even looking at.
He stood in front of me.
Looked into the boys’
dressing room, back at me.
In his caressing baritone
he said something like It’s
hard to wait. It’s hard to love.
Then he kissed my cheek.
Tenderly, I thought then.
Now, I think, with pity too.
Years later the star died
of what his parents insisted
was pneumonia.
I wish I’d grabbed him
those years ago and held on.
Answered his pity with pity,
admitted our beauty couldn’t
save us from that silent hallway,
from its long emptiness.