Poetry Winter 2017 fiction all issues
whitespacefiller
Cover Thought-Forms
Laura Apol
On My Fiftieth Birthday I Return
& other poems
Jihyun Yun
Aubade
& other poems
Jamie Ross
Red Jetta
& other poems
Sarah Blanchard
Carolina Clay
& other poems
lauren a. boisvert
Save a Seat for Me in the Void
& other poems
Faith Shearin
A Pirate at Midlife
& other poems
Helen Yeoman-Shaw
Calling Long Distance
& other poems
Sarah B. Sullivan
Iris
& other poems
Timothy Walsh
Metro Messenger
& other poems
Gabriel Spera
Scratch
& other poems
Zoë Harrison
Pattee Creek
& other poems
AJ Powell
Blanket
& other poems
Alexa Poteet
The Man Who Got off the Train Between Madrid and Valencia
& other poems
Marcie McGuire
Still Birth
& other poems
Kim Drew Wright
Elephants Standing
& other poems
Michael Jenkins
The Garden Next Door
& other poems
Nicky Nicholson-Klingerman
Costume
& other poems
Doni Faber
Man Moth
& other poems
M. Underwood
In Other Words
& other poems
Carson Pynes
Diet Coke
& other poems
Bucky Ignatius
Something Old, . . .
& other poems
Violet Mitchell
Deleting Emails the Week After Kevin Died
& other poems
Sam Collier
Nocturne in an Empty Sea
& other poems
Meryl Natchez
Equivocal Activist
& other poems
William Godbey
A Corn Field in Los Angeles
& other poems
Jihyun Yun
Aubade
So warm the nights
of plum wine and fruit
on your disrobed bed,
mattress shucked bare
but for our bodies
and the wool whiskered
blanket you cherished because
I’d bled on it once.
I said I’ll never understand,
which remains true
but I still miss the moment
arrested. Your walls awash with blues
your wide windows opened to crushes
of milkweed, sage, morning glories
bittersweet as your tongue
in love. Unhusked, I couldn’t bear
to look at you. Your mouth enveloping
the bottle’s lip entirely, your jaw
when you chewed, the muscle there.
The way you tore into clementines
with your thumbs pushing pungent pith
in and apart.
I covered my breasts
with a sheet, but you pulled it away,
bared everything.
Outside, the night swelled
and lulled, livid with cicadas.
Back then, we weren’t made
for tenderness,
though swathed in summer
we fooled ourselves.
Jihyun Yun
is a Korean-American poet currently residing in South Korea. A Fulbright Fellow and Pushcart Prize nominee, her poems have appeared in Narrative, Fugue, AAWW The Margins, and elsewhere. She received her MFA from New York University in 2016.