Excerpt from The Unbroken Coast

NALINI JONES
The morning’s freshness had passed; the day taking shape beneath a thick rind of heat, birdcalls, road fumes, car horns, and street chatter from which occasionally a single voice rose. The banana man made his way down St. Hilary Road, stopping at one gate, then the next, his back so bent beneath the bunches of fruit that he gave the impression of a tiny crooked tree. The great carnival din of children making their way to the school next door had modulated to a thrum of voices from classrooms and shrill yips from the games court.

Map

DANIEL CARDEN NEMO
If I see the ocean / I think that’s where / my soul should be, / otherwise the sheet of its marble / would make no waves. // There are of course other blank slates / on my body such as the thoughts / and events ahead. // Along with the senses, / the seven continents describe / two movements every day

A sculpture bunny leaning against a book

Three Poems by Mary Angelino

MARY ANGELINO
The woman comes back each week / to look at me, to look / at regret—that motor stuck in the living / room wall, ropes tied / to each object, spooling everything in. She / comes back to watch / what leaving does. Today, her portrait / splinters—last month, it was only / askew

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