ISSUE EIGHT: Melty Slayers | next poem →


Amy Carlberg

I clear­cut swaths

through the old growth rainforest

of icons you left on my desktop. Anything with words like


noise capitalism

I light a match with my index finger.

I bring it all to the ground with a few clicks.

This contract.    Click.    That poem.    Drag.


I can rope a few things together now, lasso a little more smoothly,

into a bouquet

some of the thoughts I’ve been having. I walk down the aisle with them.

The icons shunt into place
in their rows, neatly falling, following
one after the other,

and like seconds
I keep getting rid of things.

They’re in
the trash.

Until I empty myself, cyber will be nothing but space.

Until I can drag highlight delete whole groups at a time,
these things of his pictures of us

I look fat
the sky is blue
until I clear the forest it
breathes on me nightly

Amy Carlberg is from Toronto. She attended the University of Victoria, Concordia University, and Sarah Lawrence College for Writing. She has appeared online in Baldhip Magazine, The Squawk Back, The Boiler Journal, Sound Lit Magazine, Cactus Heart Press, and the Rumpus. She's had the pleasure of taking part in the Dead Rabbits Reading Series and the Renegade Reading Series.

ISSUE EIGHT: Melty Slayers | next poem →

ISSUE Eight: Melty Slayers

Laurin DeChae
   Snakes & Ladders
   It Will Be Alive

Jessie Janeshek
   Future Girls with Bikinis
     beneath Bruce Springsteen Tees

Samantha Duncan

Kenzie Allen
   According to Science

Jessy Randall
   Here comes a poor woman
      from baby-land

   Here comes an old woman,
     nimble namble

Ruben Rodriguez
   Because I’m Bad Ass and
      I Said So

Colleen Coyne

Rob Cook
   Unmarked Neural Pathways

Jon Riccio
   The Area Code for ESP

Jennifer MacBain-Stephens

Roger Williams
   Come Eleven

Matthew Johnstone
   Boatship: Port Layout Gossips

Daniel Schwartz

Amy Carlberg

   Embody the State of the World