ISSUE SEVEN: May Sell Tyres | next poem →

Suburban Thaw

Sarah Ann Winn

Morning gaudy bully,
done up in sun glare,
houses go nowhere
with dangling earrings.

The eaves don evening wear
for record breaking lows.
Smudgy eyes bleared with
blinding blasé.

Winter's slick leather jacket,
he bent every side road.
He shrugs one roof corner,
shrugs a spiked epaulette.

What's it to him? Cancellation,
one more snarl at crash-careening,
what's it to him, when we all stop
for his white motorcade?

Backyard day woods,
deep woods, way back,
scorched woods,
scored with heavy wet,

dowdy and without birds.
Tantrum flung droplets, planted
deep in the drifts.
Leaves are embellished,

curled into surprise.
The cold unseats us all,
immobile, vulnerable.

Sarah Ann Winn's poems have appeared or will appear soon in Cider Press Review, Massachusetts Review, Quarterly West, Nashville Review, and RHINO, among others. Recently, her piece "Field Guide to Alma Avenue and Frew Drive" was a finalist for Tupelo Quarterly's Prose Open contest, judged by Joanna Howard. Her chapbook, Portage, was released by Sundress Publications. Find her at, or you can follow her @blueaisling on Twitter.

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