Poetry Winter 2020 fiction all issues
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Paula Reed Nancarrow
Morning Coffee
& other poems
Jill Burkey
Mala
& other poems
Oak Morse
Boys Born out of Blues
& other poems
Beatrix Bondor
Engine Ode
& other poems
Monique Jonath
a mi sheberach
& other poems
Lisa Rachel Apple
Bounty
& other poems
Gillian Freebody
The Human Condition
& other poems
Kirsten Hippe-Rychlik
and we are echoes
& other poems
Devon Bohm
Forgiveness
& other poems
Jeddie Sophronius
I Rest My Mother Tongue
& other poems
John Delaney
Poem as Map
& other poems
Elizabeth Bayou-Grace
Fire in Paradise
& other poems
Monaye
In Utero
& other poems
Michelle Lerner
Ode to Exhaustion
& other poems
William French
I Have Never Been
& other poems
Josiah Patterson Wheatley
Coeur de Fleurs
& other poems
Karo Ska
womb song
& other poems
Robyn Joy
Sisyphus
& other poems
Han Raschka
Love Language
& other poems
Rebbekah Vega-Romero
The Memory in My Pinky
& other poems
Gilaine Fiezmont
Europe, too, Came from Somewhere Else
& other poems
Scott Ruescher
At the Childhood Home of Ozzy Osbourne
& other poems
Emily R. Daniel
Visitation Dreams
& other poems
Lindsay Gioffre
Toxicodendron Radicans [Sonnet 1]
& other poems
Monaye
In Utero
An ant is placed in my mother’s womb
to move new rhythms
& I become kaleidoscopic,
a melanoid drum
fluttering against a colony’s heartbeat.
Her cervix crushes me
& I know this is more than devotion
my ancestors fabled.
In my dreams
I am her legacy
or lapse in judgement, named
to bring forth a new charm.
I come into the world loud,
head first.
My inheritance hanging in garlands
from my wrists,
red ore encased
by a band of fluid
too thick to unravel.
I shimmer.
I feel wet slick,
open & give what she kept inside,
a chance
to sprout from my hands.
I must be good
if I am worthy
of being loved that much.
I take a breath
& form cells into flesh.
I exhale
to dwell amongst these bones,
to find the place most possible
to evolve
(from the beginning).
Creation Story
Somewhere undercover
a rupture of self
(or the sweetest rye
in the gardens
on the south side),
remains a project.
Creation gathers to feed us
beneath watchtowers
that once stood tall & erect—
like an edifice
of equal parts maroon & fuse.
Like mother like daughter
to pursue the place
where concrete cracks
& your older siblings say
the sidewalk spat you out like a sacrifice.
Kids know grief better
if we review impact in numbers:
one lived to be
the only evidence of ten conceived
by two lovers, searching
for light or darker substances
in each other;
drifting their wonder
between an opening
already collecting my breaths,
so I could become
the gift they left.
Leisure
A crowd gathers to build a girl
twisting each cell in its infinite hands
to manufacture perfection
all of them clamor to peer through windows
to see a girl waiting
for her limbs to be bent to mimic
a travel destination
each arm & leg & thigh is stretched
& outlined into landing strips for men
on journeys elsewhere—
perhaps like glass she’s dusted each piece mosaiced
for her own private viewing
in each town the girl becomes a vacancy
to be desired
to be filled she must decide if being a woman
or a refuge no one ever asks to come inside of
to stay
is worth a debt that will never be repaid.
After Asking God
Why “Good” Women Exist
I search google for the definition: feminism
The only result to arc toward the girl
asking fragile questions. That’s it—
when a piece of your body leaves you
longing for your lineage, searching for purpose
that begins in a woman’s bewildered screams
why did this happen?
I wander a path & find a girl unnamed.
She tells me there are many ways to become undone
like some of our sins are more delightful than others,
some wrapped in red just to unravel a resolve.
Before I understand the impact of what she unearths
I see a blade on the ground
next to the only fruit the tree could ever grow.
She weeps above it & I pity Mary’s sacrificial womb.
Maybe the gift of life was never His to give—
maybe it was Hers.
But what a terrible dream to defer,
to peel back doubt like a supple rind
with no hesitation or fear to say, “here I am,”
announcing relief, to know the courage it takes
to step in, to seize the knife, to know true belief.
Monaye
uses language and fine art as a means to create innovative, transformative, and immersive stories of power and femininity. Her perspective aims to combat injustice and empower women through the influence of political theories such as Intersectionality and Africana Womanism. Monaye holds a B.A. in Gender Women and Sexuality Studies.