Poetry Fall 2013 fiction all issues
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Chris Joyner
Wrestlemania III
& other poems
Carey Russell
Visiting Hours
& other poems
Marc Pietrzykowski
Cabinet of Wonders
& other poems
Jonathan Travelstead
Prayer of the K-12
& other poems
Jennifer Lowers Warren
Our Daughter's Skin
& other poems
Jeff Burt
The Mapmaker's Legend
& other poems
Patricia Percival
Giving in to What If
& other poems
Toni Hanner
1960—Lanny
& other poems
Christopher Dulaney
Uncle
& other poems
Suzanne Burns
Window Shopping
& other poems
Katherine Smith
Mountain Lion
& other poems
Peter Kent
Surliness in the Green Mountains
& other poems
William Doreski
Gathering Sea Lavender
& other poems
Huso Liszt
Fresco, The Forlorn Virgin...
& other poems
Clifford Hill
How natural you are
& other poems
R. G. Evans
Dungeoness
& other poems
David Kann
Dead Reckoning
& other poems
Ricky Ray
The Music of As Is
& other poems
Tori Jane Quante
Creatio ex Materia
& other poems
G. L. Morrison
Baba Yaga
& other poems
Joe Freeman
In a Wood
& other poems
George Longenecker
Bear Lake
& other poems
Benjamin Dombroski
South of Paris
& other poems
Ryan Kerr
Pulp
& other poems
Josh Flaccavento
Glen Canyon Dam
& other poems
& other poems
Christine Stroud
Grandmother
& other poems
Abraham Moore
Inadvertent Landscape
& other poems
Chris Haug
Cow with Parasol
& other poems
Mariah Blankenship
Fiberglass Madonna
& other poems
Emily Hyland
The Hit
& other poems
Sam Pittman
Growth Memory
& other poems
Alex Linden
The Blues of In-Between
& other poems
Bobby Lynn Taylor
Lift
& other poems
D. Ellis Phelps
Five Poems
Alia Neaton
Cosmogony I
& other poems
Elisa Albo
Each Day More
& other poems
Noah B. Salamon
Sanctuary
& other poems
Five Poems
i
i wake
the night
screaming
in this house:
a man
—my father—
stands
where he
should not
be in
the door
—a sheath
—a sheet
covering
~
i wake
the night
screaming
in this house:
he
—coming—
in the front
door
not locked
not safe
not sane
—memory
exhumed
~
i wake
the night
screaming
in this house:
a child
—myself—
beside me
get the poker
i say
from the fire
go!
(because i
know because
i know)
~
but she
—an aqualung
unplugged—
does not go
~
i wake
the night
screaming
in this house:
my mother
—a knife
on the stand—
and me
in the bed
by the wall
—a number
i should call
ii
i have mown
this lawn
& set sprinklers
out—sentinels
stepping off
each inch
this staccato stitch
—banal bliss
~
sun slants across
this clean cut
& satisfied
i sit—cold
concrete blessing
my skin
~
in the kitchen
—my mother
singing—
though hers
is not
a fresh wound
the hen
she fries
still bleeds
~
at the table:
sweet tea
white bread
crisp silence
~
is this
the night
my lungs
unplugged
her body hurled
her head
—a thud
~
& i awake
a witness
unwilling
iii
in the kitchen
by the door
to the den
blue cabinets
where you keep
whiskey
— decanted
in cut crystal
its lid—a ball
round & cool
in my small hand
~
before you
come in
my mother
and i
sometimes singing
sometimes silence
~
today she is tired
so i sit having tea
with dolls
(white
lace—worn
with time
tiny pearls
holding
fragile folds)
~
the back door
sucks open
what will it be
this time
~
blue cabinets
by the door
to the den
— reach in
swig the brew
take the sip
that changes
you
iv
november comes
a flush
of cadmium &
sky
this month
—you said
i do
the two of you
certain of love
~
november comes
this sun
—a low southern
slant
warming age
spotted skin
& i
am captive
of this
stiletto:
the night
you slammed
her head
(it was
something
she said)
and would not
stop the cabinets
—clapboard—
slapped blue
dark brown hair
—a wad
in your hand
~
november comes
this scene
—indelible:
a child’s chair
(for tea with dolls)
split in half
flat
& i’m
at your feet
on my knees
please please
daddy please
v
you sit—slumped
elbows at right
angles your thick hands
in folds across your broad chest
sock-hatted
head nodding
these days you sleep
in this chair (the nights—
too long)
last night i paced
the floor all night
you say
all night
you say
again
as if my ears
could ease
your pain
i lean closer
i’m sorry i whisper
weak words that break
in my mouth (i can’t help you
i wish i could)
you don’t give a shit about me
you say
and though i do i tell you i do
i do daddy i love you
you’ve snapped
& there is no
going back
D. Ellis Phelps
, painter & poet-novelist, is the author of Making Room for George (Balboa Press, 2013). To engage more of her work visit www.dellisphelps.com or find her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/DEllisPhelpsArtist