Two Poems
A Bird, A Prowler In the spaces that governyou are often told to stop wandering.The trees I mean, their very presenceand how it is always about filling in,as a child might fill in a coloring pageof a dinosaur—the mighty are mightybecause they avoid askingthe essential questions, such aswhere will this road take me?And more,…
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A Closer Look at “Self-Portrait as Eve” by Debra Wierenga
Editor’s Note: In “Is It Possible to Read Literary Magazines?” Daniel Wallace argues that providing significant commentary on every piece in a literary journal can enhance a reader’s enjoyment of the journal as a whole. Do you agree? Read Dawn Manning’s following commentary on Debra Wierenga’s poem “Self-Portrait as Eve,” and see for yourself how it…
Read MoreLove Letters
Dear Building and Grounds, I miss writing to you even though you do not write back. I don’t need you to write back, not even a note, only to know you have been here. For three days you came to my college apt., trying to fix what I thought could never be fixed. I had…
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The Mother My last, my least turned most favorite—though I’ll deny it—because if he’s a devilor a god, what could he need from me? Hadn’t I suffered enough, having mademothering a career, one I didn’t want,but couldn’t leave alive. To curse him unborn, body within my body. He waspart of me, my darkest part—childof…
Read MoreThe Unfaithful Triptych
From One Cheater to Another Say you got away scot-free, as free as betrayal can be, and months go by, and he still has no idea what you’ve done, and he still loves you the way he always did. So you go on like you never crossed that invisible line. You lie in bed for…
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Stream we got our names fromthe river’s mouth: the fieldis only open / in a clam is the rest of honeythat lathers inlight—the sun has stoppedenteringlakes for fear of fatherhood & eatingthe broken beams in a mooneye, weface flames& begin to peal They call me a catfish i hope you feellike you do…
Read MoreThe Writers Workshop
The Writers Workshop by Anonymous Day One: We Gather Together For Dinner Look around. She looks like someone who can—and must—set the schedule, phone five people, run a marathon, balance the budget, save endangered rainforest, effect world peace. And then pick up the dog from the vet. Uncharacteristically, she looks forlorn. Something is terribly wrong…
Read MoreRay
I’ll be your doll,ragged, soiled,ripped from the box,uncollectable. Take my heat.Appraise me.I’m worth your weightin bones. Ask—I’ll be your dog. The living thingyou coil with—feed me.I’ll be yours. Treat me like the dying bird tuckedinside your pillowcase. Pretendmy wings were madefor you. Formedto spreadlike wildfire. Photo credit
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