Emily Yaremchuk
The old dog dances up and down
mountains of salt peter until he disappears,
shaggy phantom dusted white in a mortification of chalk.
Rhyming with the Dead
Sandra Marchetti
My work is steel-girded because of my fathers and mothers in poetry. Instead of divorcing my predecessors, I would rather marry them or at least take up their causes.
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The Body in the Forest
Jessamyn Birrer
The heart stops, then the lonely minutes begin
until the brain follows, taking thought and memory
with it, and the loss of those ravens is the loss
that matters, for all we spend a lifetime guarding
our hearts.
Duck Hunting
John Johnson
We spent the morning in a flooded field, out among decoys, the light
catching us strangely. From the little shadow beneath our umbrella
we could see every animal endowed with spirit.
Holy Week without You
Tawni Waters
The night is blue and cool in Mexico. Outside, a naranja moon looms,
sliced by the slats of my shutters. It is Mary’s night.Ave Marias ring
in the stone streets just hours ago.