434 wires unlock the land double-decked suspension hot for incandescence a 14 lane corridor top exposed stiffening truss to come over
limbs sling across the chasm 100 million self propelled cells carbon hardening soft iron opens all 29 tolls bottom enclosed can’t afford
Alexandra Watson is a poet and fiction writer from Syracuse, New York. She serves as executive editor of Apogee Journal, a publication amplifying historically marginalized voices. She teaches writing at Barnard College in New York City.
URVI KUMBHAT From my window I see a boy shaking the bougainvillea / for flowers. My parents talk of pruning it. They talk / of little else. The tree, spilling wildly past our house into / the gulley—where boys come to smoke or piss.
KIM CURTS MATTHEUSSENS in Rome a monumental marble typewriter / ticked out their story into the sky: two lovers / devour time. she lay on the lawn near Trajan's / column. he plucked letters from her dress, / her hair, served them to her by hand, by mouth.
KEVIN McILVOY On mine spoil. In debris fields / of asphalt and concrete and brick. / Upon sites of chemical spills. / Along lifeless riverbanks. / In clonal groves so hardy you / have to steel yourself for years / of killing to kill one acre. / Where construction crews rake off / the surface