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Alysse Kathleen McCanna
Pentimento
& other poems
Peter Nash
Shooting Star
& other poems
Katherine Smith
House of Cards
& other poems
David Sloan
On the Rocks
& other poems
Alexandra Smyth
Exoskeleton Blues
& other poems
John Glowney
The Bus Stop Outside Ajax Bail Bonds
& other poems
Andrea Jurjević O’Rourke
It Was a Large Wardrobe...
& other poems
Lisa DeSiro
Babel Tree
& other poems
Michael Fleming
Reptiles
& other poems
Michael Berkowitz
As regards the tattoo on your wrist
& other poems
Michael Brokos
Landscape without Rest
& other poems
Michael H. Lythgoe
Orpheus In Asheville
& other poems
John Wentworth
morning people
& other poems
Christopher Jelley
Double Exposure
& other poems
Catherine Dierker
dinner party
& other poems
William Doreski
Hate the Sinner, Not the Sin
& other poems
Robert Barasch
Loons
& other poems
Rande Mack
bear
& other poems
Susan Marie Powers
Red Bird
& other poems
Anne Graue
Sky
& other poems
Mariah Blankenship
Tub Restoration
& other poems
Paul R. Davis
Landscape
& other poems
Philip Jackey
Garage drinking after 1989
& other poems
Karen Hoy
A Naturalist in New York
& other poems
Gary Sokolow
Underworld Goddess
& other poems
Michal Mechlovitz
The Early
& other poems
Henry Graziano
Last Apple
& other poems
Stephanie L. Harper
Unvoiced
& other poems
Roger Desy
anhinga
& other poems
R. G. Evans
Hangoverman
& other poems
Frederick L. Shiels
Driving Past the Oliver House
& other poems
Richard Sime
Berry Eater
& other poems
Jennifer Popoli
Generations in a wine dark sea
& other poems
a dishtowel tucked
in your back pocket
that i follow
as we walk
up the stairs
single file
a quiet entrance
shoes are removed
the humility of
standing in socks
before you
for the first time.
low light in the doorway
thin and pallid,
sourceless
a glow that works well
with the evening,
the mood
on screen a film plays
out in crimson,
it bleeds
this place calls for
something fragrant,
breathing
a flower.
endless summer.
no socks and
pants rolled up
drink in hand
with one leg
crossed, casual.
he’s a cool
match for
a kid like me
calm-faced and
quiet, sits
like a listener
the picture
makes me
want to sing
or at least
to swing down
and kiss his
bare ankle.
your fingers are deft
they fold clothes neatly
draw perfect flowers
cut fruit with precision
tonight, as you ready
the table, i sit waiting
watching the sun set
through a curtained window
like smiling through a veil.
together we crossed over
to a place of quiet, of peace
where we will swim
in the lake of endless depths.
the moment of diving
the hardest moment
the curve of restraint
the fear of violence.
shattering light,
shattering glass
we crossed over
flying, crying—
with wind
with gravel
hitting our faces
stinging our eyes.
Catherine Dierker studied English at George Washington University in Washington, DC and went on to earn a Master’s Degree in Anglo-Irish Literature from University College Dublin in Dublin, Ireland. Her master’s thesis was titled: “Joyce, Kierkegaard and Community.” Catherine lives and writes in Chicago, IL. She is currently applying for admission to law school.