1 cup grain alcohol strong enough to blind you,
make you forget your first love, turn gills to lungs
or vice versa.
5 tablespoons burdock root — I know an herbalist
who sells in bulk, and that’s precisely
the kind of ally you need these days; forget
the friends with their ears and tenderness
and
stockpile
some
bittering agents —
and cardamom pods,
fennel seeds,
something sweet and dried (figs?) and
1 tablespoon honey dissolved in 2 teaspoons of hot water.
Store in a cold, dry place
until you have one
that isn’t.
Sonya Vatomsky is a Moscow-born, Seattle-raised feminist poet and essayist whose work appears in No Tokens, VIDA, Hermeneutic Chaos, Bone Bouquet, and elsewhere. She edits and reviews poetry at Fruita Pulp & her chapbook MY HEART IN ASPIC is part of Porkbelly Press' 2015 line-up. Find her online at sonyavatomsky.tumblr.com and @coolniceghost.
Jill Khoury
[posterior vitreous detachment]
Colony
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
Nanobiomaximum
Dear John (Cage)
John Lowther
a sonnet from 555
Rebecca Yates
What is "Emoji"?
Glen Armstrong
Archivist
Marta Ferguson
The Nether as Pizza Parlor
September Hinkle
Surviving Charlie