fall 2019
Table of Contents
Return to Home PageDear Jennifer, Bridget Gage-Dixon
Concurrent Incidents I Flip a Coin and My Life Becomes Her Jaimie Gusman
{steeple-chase} {grave-tending} {declining dessert} David Morgan O'Connor
Inherited Water View Looking at My Hand I See Her Robert Carr
Wife Lessons Jody Burke-Kaiser
Visionary Nebraska Katie Berger
Now She's Going to Get It Marjorie Silverman
reflex 800possessedmoments Edward Wells
Glory and the Neighbors Untidy Ending Lauren Camp
Invocation I hold your ashes in my hand Angeline Schellenberg
Border Song: Within the Paper Spiral of Wasps Janet Youngdahl
Powered By English Y Pronounced EE Meredith Quartermain
Cherry Orchard Isabelle Ortner
Ladybug, Ladybug Cristalle Smith
Dark Night Full of Stars After Trout in Siskiyou County Bruce Robinson
Women of Trachis Savannah Pulfer
The ice was coming nicely Matthew Schmidt
Not really a father, John Sibley Williams
Looking at My Hand I See Her
It’s become something new—
I guess the hand is mine.
Skin, the color of too much
sun. Tissue opened, become
an island on the brown.
The distance between tan
and age is only a shade
of mahogany.
Four bones travel
to my wrist as I flex
fingers. A landscape
of blood, traveling
blue over back. (I need
to clip these nails.)
As mom died, she saw
a used-to-be-tight
watch fall from wrist
to elbow. An upturned
corner of her mouth,
eyes wide.
I enjoy my black hairs,
the gold. I am her son,
happy with the men
who want to hold this
beautiful thing.