You are a tortoise in a hard hat.
I am a heart growing gallons and gallons of hair.
You made it with me: a perfect love,
which went hard from the softness of its innards.
And though all the love went elsewhere, you hung around,
like a gas, like sand in my bikini pants.
Katharine Kilalea is the author of One Eye’d Leigh, shortlisted for the Costa Poetry Award and longlisted for the Dylan Thomas Prize for writeers under 30.
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AMIYA MORETTA
My Umatilla grandfather / who had one leg, lived down the road, / hobbled to her heroin loyally. / That’s how / my mom and dad, neighbors whose parents / were good friends and fellow addicts, / met as kids, played together / on Frieda Street, those mornings
KAREN CHASE
up it goes into the stars, for / sustenance. I open / my eyes and pray— / You have returned within me, my / soul with compassion. / Modah ani lefaneka melechai / chai vekayam shehehezarta // I get out of bed, / join the revolution.
M. B. MCLATCHEY
It was a gold-seal ruse. A double-/ dealing so sublime the gods ordained / it. Settled into their stadium seats, / they wagered on their favorites. Helen, / the imposter bride, circling and circling / the gifted horse. / Her Central Casting / lines to the shadows inside.
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