Fracture by Juanita Kirton
“Fracture” by Juanita Kirton narrows of light rest on me feets’...
My Country of Origin Is by Tandy Sturgeon Wolff
“My Country of Origin Is” by Tandy Sturgeon Wolff No country. Show me one and I will point out no line scratched in the earth, no fence as long as you say. So forget it. No one has one. The closest thing to a country is your body.You imagine a country of your own that is very old, but it’s not old enough, never enough to sing in your ears like birds do. And birds are still at this point, everywhere....
Home by Kristen Ringman
“Home” by Kristen Ringman I don’t feel home anywhere after losing it, after the shipwreck. We move from place to place. It feels better to move. It reminds me of the sea. I wake each day with disappointment I pretend can be cured with coffee or friends, with your small lips nursing my breasts, the way you ask for “yogurt and granola” every morning, without fail. Every day, by mid-day, I fail myself—I give in...
Sculpture Under A Bridge by Debbie Hall
“Sculpture Under A Bridge” by Debbie Hall Buenos Aires, at a memorial for the “disappeared” during the military dictatorship, 1976-1983 Each figure climbs atop the other up from the dust and dark. They reach through cracks in the road to pull travelers out of...
Mooring the Boat to the Dock by Sarah Black
“Mooring the Boat to the Dock” by Sarah Black Anna Larina was the only audience to the final testament of her husband Nikolai Bukharin. Each morning after his death— Stalin let her live for the national asset of her beauty— she rose to recite her husband’s testimony. Through one decade in the Gulag and one in exile, through the birth of another man’s children, she held Nikolai’s heart in her mouth,...