Poetry

Corn and Turns

By LAUREN CAMP

 

If I won’t remember that I was in Virginia last year without praise
of darkness, or the autumn drift I spent in Wisconsin watching a cardinal

nip the oak, if I see and forget field thick over field, the stalks
cut against green—how will I fetch forth the half-dead

Corn and Turns
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Breakfast of Champions

By TINA CANE


I woke up in a panic     this morning thinking     what if my
love language 

is granola?     I found a quiz online     but was too chicken to take it     having had 

Russian bots once read      my face and place me     alongside a woman     holding a mango 

or some bullshit in Gaugin     
                                                    nothing exotic for me     today 

Breakfast of Champions
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