Poetry Summer 2020 fiction all issues
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Cover Vecteezy
Rodrigo Dela Peña
If a Wound is an Entrance for Light
& other poems
Shellie Harwood
Early Evening, Late September
& other poems
William A. Greenfield
The Deacon’s Lament
& other poems
J. H. Hall
Immersion
& other poems
Kimberly Sailor
Two Aphids
& other poems
Sugar le Fae
Bagging
& other poems
Lauren Sartor
Shopping Cart Woman
& other poems
Nathaniel Cairney
Mushroom Hunting, Jackson County, Kansas
& other poems
Elisa Carlsen
Cormorant
& other poems
Daniel Gorman
The Boy Achilles
& other poems
Samara Hill
I Look for Her Mostly Everywhere
& other poems
Nicole Justine Reid
Returning to Sensual
& other poems
David Ginsberg
Butterfly Wings
& other poems
Katherine B. Arthaud
Café Sant Ambroeus
& other poems
George R. Kramer
Young Odysseus
& other poems
Amy Swain
In Praise of Trees
& other poems
Frederick Shiels
Bad October: 2016
& other poems
Matthew A. Hamilton
Summer of '89
& other poems
Chris Kleinfelter
Getting from There to Here
& other poems
Martin Conte
Ghazal for the Shipwrecked
& other poems
Natalie LaFrance-Slack
I Do Not Owe You My Beauty
& other poems
Susan Marie Powers
Dark Water
& other poems
Kimberly Sailor
Two Aphids
Has the house on the corner
always been vermilion red?
Just like the back of the still-living aphid
that sap sucking sucker
trapped between screen and pane
of my awning crank window. Turn, turn, stuck;
does your God hear the prayers of insects?
The tired I tolerate is not easily describable:
a stuttering, clumsy, make-him-hurt sleep-step
where my blue-toned under-eyes
are bridal white now
because blood stopped flowing up
to save the feet below
that still have to move, on special occasions.
If only I could prioritize so precisely,
without emotion, just instinctual action
but instead: buy new fitted sheets
with stubborn manufacturing lines
suffocating inside a cellophane bag
sleep, sleep, divorce with recreational teas
and herbal drugs.
You won’t let our dog Sally
lie on the couch
but you screwed a work-girl
down there on the cushions
so I really don’t know what’s off-limits,
what’s even possible now,
for that aphid, or you.
Genesis Ribs & Wings
you killed my sick chicken
that’s all it took to fall for you
I added backyard hens to my woodshed;
a Madison hipster.
Religion in southern Wisconsin is biking to holy brunches
of farm-raised salmon on beds of fleshy arugula
what color were your hands
after the slaughter?
I ask
because blood looks different on everyone
and I’m still waiting to study your skin
kind of you, to wrap the dead hen
in a floral dishcloth, the Shroud of Turin;
though you wouldn’t know about that,
because your Easters are red ales and spiral hams.
The bird’s funeral was brief, but reverent:
I think about the service when dividing hostas atop her grave
should have consumed
a tender eulogy of beef jerky and pork rinds with you.
Wish my husband
offered such direct masculinity
but his knife, rests at the throat,
of church choir high notes.
Husband-Adam is still perfect
in His image:
didn’t even interrupt
when a woman laid her love-liness atop mine
that Creation Christmas
in a classier than expected Comfort Inn
though who of anyone
wild or mild
would stop two
goddamn gorgeous women?
Ain’t no deniers of that faith.
All three of you correctly evangelized:
I’m not a real farmer, or a Biblical scholar.
For the birds, this attraction to everyone;
duality, in an unbalanced trinity
with God perched on my shoulder
leaning over to braid my hair
as my husband,
supportive,
and scripture-read,
stirs chicken risotto on the stove.
After Eleven Summers,
She Said She Never Really Loved Me Anyway
when your insides
still recognize another
automatically
syncing during the day
cardio-exercising
to avoid acquired heart disease
the only way forward
is robotics:
find a simulacrum
of sturdy aluminum
to do the ticking
and beating
for you
Faded Green
I am afraid
of Ireland.
Psychoanalysts agree, wagging thee:
unstable euro
thinning dollar
Brexit bullshit
border guards
queen’s opinion
religious tension
rowdy Cork lads
craggy sheep-shit lanes
opinionated Dublin drunks
colour-coded Belfast neighbourhoods
unpopular view of all things American and British and somehow Asian, too,
God help the purity of the Emerald Isle! May she stay jewel’d and potato’d forever!
I say no. also, christ:
not any of that.
Maybe you are comprehensively anxious
about light treason and unjust sanctions?
Simply,
I am afraid
to see our honeymoon place
where we laughed ten years ago
in love
with matching backpacks
and rented bicycles
because nothing is like that
anymore.
25 Years Later
Even now, I talk chopped // small bursts are easy to release // I’m not
in smoke-stitched sweaters // I outgrew // thin fuzzy gym shorts // I can’t count
grocery money from Feds // I have investments // I grew // I have billions // (I do not)
sleep in a bed someone else bought // Though I do sleep, sometimes.
I still feel // the panic of a snarl-headed girl // fourth grade // I need glasses
can’t circle her state // can’t see that far // but can still find
solace in custody-dad tires // arriving at the school yard // I love public education //
good teachers save you // Jesus could not, but state aid did.
Even now // with teal household pottery // glazed by poor Navajo hands
about my age // When all of that other life happened.
Even now // with Aran Islands scarves // fitness punch cards
groceries delivered by drones // crisp white pants requiring special detergent //
And a bed that holds the weight, dreams, and children of two.
a friend stops by with cake
will she smell smoke
from 25 years ago
unfurling from my closet
and will she meet
that other, captive me?
Kimberly Sailor
of Mount Horeb, WI, is a 2020 poetry fellowship recipient at the Martha’s Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing. Sailor, a 2019 Hal Prize poetry finalist, is also the editor-in-chief of the Recorded A Cappella Review Board, with more than 300 music publication credits. Her poetry has appeared in the Peninsula Pulse, Sixfold, and the Eunoia Review. She is the author of the fiction novel The Clarinet Whale, and serves as an elected official on her local Board of Education.