slp: three ghazals titled
[43.], [46.] a.e.m., & [32.]

[43.]

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In class, you defend to young clams the sand in yr skin. Yes,
it cuts. A teacher is a bright pearl, a bright pearl. I eat a bright pearl.

Lynching was only most obvious symptom of treaties, my trail
of broke.

Thinking’s wrong, the spring of light ties yr eyes a tattoo to the world
and the sword that severs yr filaments, yr eyes to greet a bright pearl

Yes, there was a Jew, & an Indian, & women w/o affiliation
O’er edge, und’r shirt, off my meds tho tak’n them that cheat a bright pearl

If the poetry takes you, the oil rig’s impatient. Galloping,
If the evening’s ink, and back breaking, and oil comes up not alone

My body seeks bodies & body’s no border so fleet a bright pearl
For laws of geol’gy & court get inside & they [                 ] a bright pearl

No, the ri’er won’t last. & passed, perhaps, perpetrations will be
a cold morn’s breath in time of none more cold morns

Can I disavow what I hae been? rabbit, if you sleep,
Guiltless, keep boulders content upslope, keep the scree field firm




[46.] a.e.m.

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I a wolf’s den dark carcass strewn I call you wolf come home
Lionéss, yr vóice     /     bríght lóam     /     flame you moved in me     /     home, home

Yóu, Belov’d, long body grúeling long     /     farming season
fielding líthe the green fog of the valley in which come home

He build you trees     /     conspire all crows and night entire for you
Except those two in Boston. Love is prey say welcome home

Dòn’t dìe, bìrd, yèt     /     wildebeest in yr bedroom claws enrapt
That hunt like a woman engorg’d tore teeth in for some home

Steelen tongues the length     /     wood body tool     /     tensile when it goes
autumn and iron through the kitchen like might I come home

Don’t you see the light, blue corners, enfencing th’electric
-al whatsit, storm, skin, and pills, it all, lifts u, thensome, home




[32.]

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was it in neither of us that gateway
and if the lover is gone so is that god?

doubt now that was any such and all else
was doubt

women I cannot talk to you men,
what are you, rabbit, slim rabbit

there’s so much of you, clamoring, slapped
burrowed down in a brass burrow

thinking is the wrong tool.
I am the oppressor.




ISSUE SIX:

FICTION: Lisa Beebe, Karl Harshbarger, Lauren Johnson, J. Robert Lennon

NONFICTION: Matthew Gavin Frank, Deborah Thompson

POETRY: Melissa Barrett, Thea Brown, Lauren Camp, Sampurna Chattarji, MRB Chelko, Patrick Culliton, John Gallaher, Ricky Garni, Meghan Lee, Kristen Orser, slp, Meghan Privitello, Megan Pugh, Amelia Salisbury, Matt Shears, Raena Shirali, Dolsy Smith, Avni Vyas, Elizabeth Whittlesey, Nicholas Wong

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