ISSUE SEVEN: May Sell Tyres | next poem →


Jill Khoury

While I rebuild
my brainscape,
he can't touch it.
I won't even let him watch
while I dig my hands
into conductors
rampant, untamed. He wants
to stick his fist in too,
rearrange my labile village.

When I deliberate, cables twist,
revolve as one long stalk.
Lights blink a cipher
not for him to see.
When resistance
fails, the connection
shorts. I burn a faulty circuit
around my desire
for mechanoid
for a bio-inspired,
well-tooled actuator—

I shake my head no
and fibers sway coolly.
An automatic eye
spies his colonizers
on the far horizon.
The iris narrows.
Synapses fire.

Jill Khoury is interested in the intersection of poetry, visual art, gender, and disability. She edits Rogue Agent, a journal of embodied poetry and art, and has a chapbook Borrowed Bodies (Pudding House 2009) and a full-length collection, Suites for the Modern Dancer (Sundress 2016). She tweets @sundaygray, and you can find her on the web at

ISSUE SEVEN: May Sell Tyres | next poem →

ISSUE SEVEN: May Sell Tyres

Jill Khoury
   [posterior vitreous detachment]

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
   Dear John (Cage)

John Lowther
   a sonnet from 555

Rebecca Yates
   What is "Emoji"?

Glen Armstrong

Marta Ferguson
   The Nether as Pizza Parlor

September Hinkle
   Surviving Charlie