ISSUE NINE: Y'all Reset My S | next poem →


Sarah Mitchell-Jackson

Tent pegs line themselves like teeth
into the waiting earth. Here,
due to time and rain, the earth
accepts invasion easily, separates
from itself easily.
The canvas zippers when touched.
No names are inscribed here.
No roof between me and the knife.
I resist such accommodations
and they resist my touch and the touch of clouds.
Purity has no place in this wasteland.
The horizon—like an average—
wavers in the distance, as I plan
my escape back to four plain walls
an immediate sanity.
In such vastness the mind shrinks
away. And, with such vastness
in mind, we unroll.

Sarah Mitchell-Jackson has had short fiction published in The Critical Pass Review and on the Conium Review website. Her debut novel, Ashes, will be out later in 2016, published by Blue Moon Publishers. You can read more of her work at: or tweet her: @SMitchJack. She would love to hear from you.

ISSUE NINE: Y'all Reset My S | next poem →

ISSUE NINE: Y'all Reset My S

Sarah B. Boyle
   Before You Look at the Plan,
     Ask Yourself

Farah Ghafoor
   my bird/my body
   Vapor Trail

Sarah Mitchell-Jackson

William James
   Deconstruction VI

Alejandro Escudé
   The Poet’s Ancient Cursor

Tammy Robacker
   My Husband Grows a Rose
     Hybrid with No Thorns

Janet Dale
   Affecting Phenomena

Raymund Reyes
   The Barker

Laura Carter
   from Good Horse

KJ Hannah Greenberg
   Politics, Like Sardines

Nancy Devine