Issue 155

Winter & Spring 2019

Image from New Arctic

Poetry Tina Chang Poetry Tina Chang

Patience

I come from gravel falling from the mouth, a bent spine

from which my mother rose, from the sickness that poured

over my father in water buckets. That was the well he fell into

and the well where I waited, a body cutting into water on impact.

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Poetry Tina Chang Poetry Tina Chang

Prophecy

I will strike down whitecaps of longing on which the boats sail, Mama
I will strike down the buildings in which reside clouds of ammunition, Mama
I will explode the vicissitudes of hatred, armed guards
with jagged swords, with shields in the name of patience,

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