Two Poems

Heather Christle DUCK Duck duck duck duck eventually I have to change. It doesn’t mean anything when it happens. It picks the same man again and again until the day the same man appears different. It is his shirt or the drift of his hairdo. His history’s eaten itself. Now it is my turn to … Continue reading Two Poems


Susannah Lodge-Rigal Again, the sun breaks itself on high branches on high branches the world-over The oak-full woods appear Without warning cowbirds prick the blue until they too are sewn to the smalling distant I slow around sad at my own surprise Pretend every gone thing singing still—pretend this is how I learn to be … Continue reading Midair

Noli Me Tangere

Shelley Wong the fields were scribbled on or as blank as envelopes * to write about birds & not think hunter not think bright cage for two * on the train, I slept in shuttering light through a bombed city returned to its Baroque splendor * a friend once said the body knows * I … Continue reading Noli Me Tangere

Jane in Starving Time

Alicia Wright Jamestown Settlement, Virginia, 1609 We grasp at everything but clasp nothing but wind. To have had my girlhood first at sea & here, in leafy canopy, silver cedars, oaks & wailing, owls & otherwise in timbered dark— I’m not like them, their island tongues unraveling in colony’s weak net, vowels slack-jawed with winter’s … Continue reading Jane in Starving Time


Molly Minturn In my early teens I was an acolyte at the Episcopal church the next town over. I want you to see me in the vestry, snapping up my red gown and pulling the billowing white blouse over my head. I want you to see me walking up the aisles holding the golden crucifix … Continue reading Pilgrim

Chet Baker

Laton Carter When I opened the window, not for a second did I fly. My mind was sinking elsewhere. The quiet of the hotel room received the night air, and I nodded into it. My body followed. There’s no romance in any of this. I had privileges and took advantage. Then, as in a circle, … Continue reading Chet Baker

Folk Tale

Justin Runge The fog was a cloud. Appeared on campus like a political figure. Like a holy holiday. Dined on marginalia in the faculty offices. The student newspaper sent its best reporter to the fog, which gave an evasive interview. The fog then moved on to the wetlands, snagging on bracken like hem. Made faces … Continue reading Folk Tale