ISSUE SEVEN: May Sell Tyres | next poem →

The Serbo-Croatian language uses the same word,

čičak, for burdock and Velcro

Sonya Vatomsky

1 cup grain alcohol strong enough to blind you,
make you forget your first love, turn gills to lungs
or vice versa.
5 tablespoons burdock root — I know an herbalist
who sells in bulk, and that’s precisely
the kind of ally you need these days; forget
the friends with their ears and tenderness
and
stockpile
some
bittering agents —
and cardamom pods,
fennel seeds,
something sweet and dried (figs?) and
1 tablespoon honey dissolved in 2 teaspoons of hot water.
Store in a cold, dry place
until you have one
that isn’t.

Sonya Vatomsky is a Moscow-born, Seattle-raised feminist poet and essayist whose work appears in No Tokens, VIDA, Hermeneutic Chaos, Bone Bouquet, and elsewhere. She edits and reviews poetry at Fruita Pulp & her chapbook MY HEART IN ASPIC is part of Porkbelly Press' 2015 line-up. Find her online at sonyavatomsky.tumblr.com and @coolniceghost.

ISSUE SEVEN: May Sell Tyres | next poem →













ISSUE SEVEN: May Sell Tyres

Jill Khoury
   [posterior vitreous detachment]
   Colony

Sonya Vatomsky
   Mouth-Off (III)
   The Serbo-Croatian language
      uses the same word, čičak,
      for burdock and Velcro

Kamden Hilliard
   no baby but the poem is about you

Jessica Schouela
   The Funeral

Chris Campanioni
   Working Models

Sarah Ann Winn
   Suburban Thaw
   Rolling Acres Mall, Abandoned

Cynthia Conte
   Number three star: Fast years

Diane Gage
   Nanobiomaximum
   Dear John (Cage)

John Lowther
   a sonnet from 555

Rebecca Yates
   What is "Emoji"?

Glen Armstrong
   Archivist

Marta Ferguson
   The Nether as Pizza Parlor

September Hinkle
   Surviving Charlie