ISSUE EIGHT: Melty Slayers | next poem →


Colleen Coyne

Down the dark
coastal highway,
black as wire
bound in cable—

this car is a call box
for unnatural disasters.

There are three crashes,
three kinds of fire.

The guard rail whines and frowns.

Three ways to extinguish waves.

I only wanted to reel you
in. Key you, tag your fin,

release you.

Marinate you
in steam,


Sleeping in your salt bed—
a wall of water separates us.

Steel scrim, cloud film.

What else can sound
travel through?

Your clothes?
Your bones?

Colleen Coyne is the author of the chapbook Girls Mistaken for Ghosts (dancing girl press, 2015), and her work appears in DIAGRAM, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Crab Orchard Review, Cream City Review, So to Speak, Tupelo Quarterly, New Delta Review, and elsewhere. She lives in Massachusetts, where she teaches writing and works as a freelance writer and editor. Find out more at

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