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Myra Sklarew

Exchange

By Myra Sklarew
Aaron Kreuter

Paddling the Nickel Tailings Near Sudbury

By Aaron Kreuter We put in at the edge of the tailings pond,
our canoe loaded with gear and food
to take us on the four-day loop trip,
our nylon tent and stainless steel pots.
Lee Sharkey

Man on a Sofa

By Lee Sharkey A man is lying on a sofa.

The man has been reading.

He has laid down the book beside him.

The man's form is waiting to be occupied.
Kim Roberts

PROTANDRIC

By Kim Roberts Oysters may look to us
like wet floppy tongues,

but there’s no licking.
There’s no touching.
Julie Enszer

Zyklon B

By Julie Enszer The painters call before we move into the new house. Ma’am, they say—

I am not old enough to be a ma’am, but I don’t correct them—
Ma’am, they say, we smell gas.

I dismiss their concern. I say, Keep painting.

Joshua Weiner

Hikmet: Çankiri Prison, 1938

By Joshua Weiner Today is Sunday.
Today, for the first time, they let me go out into the sun.
And I stood there I didn't move,
struck for the first time, the very first time ever:
Sara Brickman

Migration Patterns

By Sara Brickman Owosso, Michigan is cinder blocks
stacked on top of potato cellars and steamrolled
grey. There’s a lot of corn,
Gretchen Primack

The Dogs and I Walked Our Woods,

By Gretchen Primack and there was a dog, precisely the colors of autumn,
asleep between two trunks by the trail.
But it was a coyote, paws pink
Myra Sklarew

Infinite Regress of War

By Myra Sklarew In the mirror of infinite regress
go back. Go back to Vietnam. To a man
who can spot a trip wire fine as a hair,
Gretchen Primack

The Absence of Unnecessary Hurting

By Gretchen Primack This is the press of the earth. One star hanging
there, honking like a goose. The lake
a smudge of black juice, the hill a draped
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