Poetry
To Avulse:
by Olivia Garard
We were taught another word for it:
degloving, like a delicate plucking,
Country Dark
by D.A. Gray
Outside the city limit signs the trees
bring night before the sun sets,
sky hiding in a silhouette of cedar, oak
Twelve Years Ago I Leave You Stay
by D.A. Gray
Every time the temperature quickly drops
in Texas—the scene replays itself.
Fruit on Fire
by Kathryn Jordan
Stare out the window at the Irvine Ranch, but it’s not a ranch,
it’s the Air Facility hangars for the blimps. It’s 1966.
When We Begin to Think of Home
by Fasasi Abdulrosheed Oladipupo
We remember our friends, those who now have children
Those whose names are called with more purpose.
What I Missed
by Lao Rubert
For fifty years I wondered why you went to war without a fight,
ready to raise the flag, go to battle, wear
the face paint, never thinking about the slog through mud
