Three Poems by Ingrid Jendrzejewski

Pear Tree I am turning into a pear tree. It has taken me months to realize it, but there are things that, after time, one can’t deny. My legs have become stiff and unyielding. Wooden, one might say, if one lacked tact. My bodily systems have begun to feel botanic,...

family (a form somehow must)

family (a form somehow must) Gwynne Garfinkle the cat vanishes forever between one episode and the next so does our beloved dog (we don’t notice) the girls once had a different dad the boys, a different mom now they’re gone never to be mentioned like the...

Instructions for Astronauts by Michael Janairo

Instructions for Astronauts Michael Janairo I. The People of the One Ship By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return. — Genesis 3:19 Oh, Voyagers, Our...

The Study

The Study Mari Ness In the mirrors, a monster with stolen eyes and breath, hungry for human speech. In the doors the shadows of her wedding guests, mourners weeping over fruits and sweets. In the walls sweet roses and disease, harsh chemicals and slow decay. In the...

The Process

The Process Sonya Taaffe Kafka has gotten lost in his own adjective. Yesterday he wrote me from Zürau, but my address was censored and the envelope shook out a blue rat, the postmark in two inks dripping from its mouth like hemorrhage. All roads lead to Prague, he...

Life by the river

Life by the river Jamie Samdahl Every afternoon I swallow rain and it puts me to sleep     beside you I cross over     into your river dreams      each time our temples touch the muddiness     the sway of the bridge is irresistible...

The Saint Of Small Things, Weeping

The Saint Of Small Things, Weeping Margaret Wack Poison has always been the old enemy and usual culprit. Hunting, sometimes, though not as often anymore: stones, traps, snares, guns. The crunch, the blood. Best if quick, to fill some other stomach. Worse for sport,...

The Gifts

The Gifts Sandi Leibowitz For Sara Cleto and Brittany Warman The sisters parted once the gifts were given. No need now to thread their lives through a single needle; each had her own path to stitch. The younger one loved spring best so her work spilled grape hyacinths...