I lie on my back, wriggle inside
This sleeping bag, lick lips
And nibble the grit under tongue,
The milky drops of the night sky
That pucker this dark down red,
That have fallen into my mouth, open
While I sleep.
Manual for an Underwater Tour Guide
Elisabeth Strayer
You, too, can be a tour guide of a drowned place: scuba certification in hand, equipped to lead a family of four through the submerged areas of the city where your great-great grandparents once lived out their dream in a windowless third-floor walk-up.
Two Poems
Jak Kurdi
However, when the day sloughs off and falls
to the floor of my bedroom, it looks like dread
and a binder – a spandex and canvas fabric
masquerade – which only agrees to lower
its ligature from the contours of my ribs and lungs
when night declares, it is now safe to breathe.
Troubleshooting Failed Connections
V.A. Bettencourt
Abort if explicitly rejected. Implicit rejections
may be a feature or a bug — check with source.
Reboot if inactive for days or if you’ve avoided
sparks for fear of shock.
“I would recommend that someone who wants to get published read as many issues of an many journals as possible & submit, submit, submit their work. I set a goal of submitting my poetry to one hundred journals every year, breaking it down into sending out so many every month & every week to keep on track.”
