Issue 145

Winter & Spring 2014

Image from War Movie

Poetry Beth Bachmann Poetry Beth Bachmann

coal

What else is there to offer, god, but the body

and everything in it? What’s mine’s

for mining. The wooden cages do not warn one another

of danger. I’m burning means I’m burning

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Poetry Beth Bachmann Poetry Beth Bachmann

shell

Fingers in the mouth make mud

into a poultice to warm the dead. Only water moving fighter slow can’t get out til

something goes in, above and below meeting at ice or lotus or iris. Look at me

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