Poetry

Poetry,Winter 2018

Taxidermy Bride

Eve F.W. Linn

After photographs by Francesca Woodman

Head first from the bottom shelf,
I spill out, sleep-tumbled,
mirrored
in the yellow eyes of a stuffed vixen.

Here, my body in a chair.
Stains pool by my feet, or is it
my shadow? My shoes wait
somewhere.
Here, my hands sooty as sparrows,
thunder clouds,
and vex.

I look under everything.
I am a case, a box lot,
a windfall.
Sometimes, there are three of me with
the same face.

 

Eve F.W. Linn received her …

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Blog,Creative Work

Date Rape Actress | How to Be a Woman

Andrea Rogers

Date​ ​Rape​ ​Actress

“You’re just an empty cage, girl,

If you kill the bird”

– Tori Amos, “Crucify”

 

At sixteen, she felt it

when the man gave her

moonshine: that slowing

of blood, strange feeling

of floating out.

 

And so she became a bird,

buoyed, looking upon the body;

saw it groped, kissed,

discarded, propped against

a tree, mindless, poisoned.

 

The body, thawing, rocked

back and forth ’til morning, when,

the vomit drying on its …

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Poetry,Winter 2018

Two Poems

Melissa Atkinson Mercer

 girl with diagnosis or gun #10

this is where I always think it is | no | this is where it actually is

I don’t know if I’ve tied my dress with bluebirds or with hunger
if I’m hungry for a thing I can have

if when we wed | our sea-filled tongues | we see men walking towards us with the
heads of wolves
or wolves with the heads of …

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Poetry,Winter 2018

Lavinia Explodes

Kate Polak

 As if you can’t lip read.

Cut mute, & love—
the mad season ended at the point I willingly put my lips around wood
to set it in sand. To expose my thin wrists to the elements,
to grotesque embrace, & write.

As if you didn’t know; but made me
spell it out. Made the climax
splinter in my mouth.

Kate Polak is an Assistant Professor at Wittenberg University, where she teaches literature …

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Poetry,Poetry,Winter 2018

Relief

Jessica (Tyner) Mehta

Us and every mammal on earth takes
twenty seconds to piss. Imagine that,
the great equalizer is between our legs
(of course). It doesn’t matter
how many warm beers we forced down
during bumbling pauses at house parties
we never wanted to attend. If we just
got the trots training for a pointless race,
or held our bladders tight as a newborn
because the bathroom was too many
steps away (and we so lazy). We’re …

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