sprovence
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K. McDonald, Common Reed
Kindra McDonald Common Reed For a season, I spend every dayon phragmites control, carryinga 3-gallon pack of herbicide on my back.Sloshing through swamps in brutal heat, this physical, thankless workwith no instant gratification, a lesson.This is the most important labor—what crowds out beauty never truly goes away, all you can do is mitigate damage.Rhizomes produce…
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H. Zheng, Why We’re Not Rushing
Huina Zheng Why We’re Not Rushing to Say “I Do” After Six Years Living Together Because both Yong’s and my income are unstable. Because he’s almost always on business trips, leaving us more apart than together. Because when he returns to our apartment at night, I’m engrossed in my Taobao live streams selling the latest…
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T. Kranz, Tidal Spring Redux
Tova Kranz Tidal Spring Redux The sun is high already: the skycloudless blue with the crisscross contrails, the sun glints off passenger planes and C-130s.Garden, mound of woodchips, and palm trees glow. The moon is faint and shimmers overa live oak branch; over the pluff mud the moon is a shrinking wedge drawing water back…
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A. Fee, Reprieve
Arvilla Fee Reprieve I sink into the sofa,letting my arms falllimply to each side.Head back,eyes closedI breathe in the stillness,allowing it to fill my lungs.Upon release,I feel the tension leavemy body,the pressing weightof children,today’s dinner menu,dishes—laundry.In that one moment,I let it all go—ease my shouldersdown,tell myself it’s OK to be still,to simply existin this tiny…
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P. Valdata, Commuter
Pat Valdata Commuter Tardy sun gilds the silver queen while Tina singssoft and rough. I didn’t catch enough z’s, so Rise Up Coffee comes to my rescue. My spirits should rise upwith each sip, but I am not morning’s minion. I slip on oversize sunglasses against the morning’s glare. Sixteen ounces later, I still want…
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H. King Always in my Pockets
Hilary King Always In My Pockets Envy slept in this morning, and I let her. I walk through our apartment, drinking peppermint tea, the bright scent filling the high ceilings of our small rooms. Later, over wine and take-out, I’ll tellEnvy everything. Wait– Maybe I’ll cook. Crepes, because when I’m not jealous, I’m French. Or…
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N. Lee Derivation
Nissa Lee Derivation Less than one percent of Earth’swater is potable. Drinkable.The fact leaves me thirsty,and searching the internetfor water filtration systems.Potable comes from Old Frenchcomes from the Latin potare.Related to potion and poison.Ninety-nine percent of Earth’s wateris poison to me. Salty or swimmingwith bacteria. My kid has been coughing all winter.I’ve brewed teas and…
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S. Clark Outdoor Farmers Market
Sarah CR Clark At the Year’s First Outdoor Farmers Market Spring is exploding with asparagusIn the North, winter’s menu has finally expiredNow old men dive into buckets of red rhubarbSun-starved and ravenous for fresh pea pods We trade winter’s northern menu forBaskets of living mizuna, arugula, spinachOverflowing pea pods flirt with thawing sensesI am seduced…
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M. Kirby, Echo
Merie Kirby Echo of Tectonic Plates I sink into the earth where I’m set down, mineral roots seeking community, tentative among all the deep prairie taproots, slow to mingle and entangle. Tectonic plates of home shift thousands of miles away, vibrations passed root to root through granites, sediment, limestone, sandstone, through ice plant and sagebrush,…
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J. Goodfellow, On Fearful Symmetry
Jessica Goodfellow On Fearful Symmetry In art, odd numbers are favored. Asymmetry hangs on its axis like a pole dancer, like a tattered banner in capricious wind. And why is wind asymmetric while rain is symmetric?Human faces thought as beautiful tend toward symmetry. The bell curve ought to be the belle curve or the belle…