After the killing of cows and herdsman in Enugu Prelude: [In the storm / the brief branches of lightning / stretch like the jagged edges / of a torn map / over a country / the storm thickens into night / the night fizzles into day / the day blossoms into tomorrow.] Somewhere, sprawled on …
In the Storm, a Country, by Omodero David Oghenekaro Keep Reading »
In the bitter of November, the inside of the house waited.A knock: a visitor, leather jacket hung with motor oil and amber. —how’s my favorite brother —you just missed him An embrace, tears. A huge bag swallows the father, its zipper like his brother’s leather jacket,if the track were drawn out for seven feet, plus …
Eight Synonyms for Shroud, by Laura McPherson Keep Reading »
the same way I hold wounded things,the bird with the clipped wing,the dazed moth,scalded in search of light—I run my hands on fraying walls,curled fingers like a handle to clasp;ghosts, I findare always feeling through the darkthey fold into embraces,all deadweight and dragging,like they’ve forgotten how to be held. Catheryne Gagnon lives in Tiohtià ke/Montreal …
I Hold Ghosts in My Hands, by Catheryne Gagnon Keep Reading »
In fields corn is blooming, embers burning, gilded sea of spun glass. My father points out the car windowto rattle off a folktale or maybe urban legend about haunted crops, vengeful farmers, and our own relativeswho came over to find nothing after leaving nothing. The radio cuts out. The Midwest sits between transmission zones,memory and …
Driving in Lake County, Illinois, by Morgan L. Ventura Keep Reading »
I’m standing in the middle of the road, in the middle of the night, with the deer.The darkness and the silence and their bodiesare fragile. I know that none of these things are meant to withstand shock—of light, noise, impact—and I thinkthat maybe I am not, either. This is no accident. I’m praying for eyes …
In the middle of the night, with the deer, by Christine Barkley Keep Reading »
I rained my grandfather’s ashes onto the dark lapping Yamuna,and in a breath they filled the space between spume and wave. A man kills a man in the absence of god. Disease kills the cellsin the absence of a knife. Time kills the body in the absence of fever. What will kill the lifeflow of …
No one thought she’d go the way she did, miredin car smoke, no death note. She lived a badlife, died a good death—as decently sadan end as any. I stretch my leg skywardwith my head to the dirt. Listen, I’m wired—a cup phone to hell. Loose string runs bone-cladthrough me. Press your ear to the arch …
Dida does not know deathhas planted her spine in an egg carton that someone willforget on a windowsill until winter, where nothing butgrief grows. She does not know she is dying, or knows but doesnot show she knows. By the time she rushes over the slick endof a wave as a small shoal of ash, …
Grief does not wait for Death, by Karan Kapoor Keep Reading »
Summer has comein waves of pollenand exhaust heart-cut rhinestonesin the eyesof velvet fawnshidden in the shadeof wood geraniumand mandrake snapping turtlewith her razor beakbroodingin the sandbox behind the houseyour father built. I remember her children emerging, palm-sized and ancientfrom torn leather shells and nests of garter snakes by the woodpileerupting into grassthat grazed our skinned …
I’m Gonna be a Country Girl Again, by Kelly Rose Pflug-Back Keep Reading »
Philosophy and Poetry are not bedfellowsThey are beds.The toaster is a marvelous thing.How many dead toasters fill the land? A billion? A gazillion?Poppa John Mistic walks into a barHe orders a pint.Slowly, he dips his beard into the glass.Donut stout. Wax and suds.The word STINK is tattooed to his neckA plane crashes into his neckWhen …
