Issue 149

Winter & Spring 2016

Image from This is Not My Home

Poetry Felicia Zamora Poetry Felicia Zamora

In practice

Cool sweeps over the streambed lip, say here & here, then, bare

ankles in hug; these intimate moments at dusk; what dissipates;

what stands in the place of gone when the jaw, in gape, remains a

restless O, & wide to tunnel inward; say incessant just beyond the

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Poetry Felicia Zamora Poetry Felicia Zamora

Fallible Roundness

You open, wing-like & one-sided. How halves make the smirk

& you always two things gathering. Together, repeats you.

Opposites never really dance on ends; instead, this infinite loop,

which goes on without us, because our anatomy knows of

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