In the sparrow’s mouth
salmon leapt sheaves of snow.
There was no faith left anywhere
except in the purely mathematical
models of socialism.
We waited for something without knowing for what. Units of time
revealed themselves as paintings of the homeless.
The snow formed a geographical presence,
filled with cold drifts the space
in our minds prepared
to accept the force of an impersonal death.
The bird
was either invisible or was totally surrounding the sky
from which the fish are dropped.
David Brennan's most recent book is If Beauty Has to Hide, forthcoming from Spuyten Duyvil. His poems and essays have appeared in BOAAT, Timber, Heavy Feather Review and elsewhere. He teaches at James Madison University.
ISSUE SEVENTEEN: My Salty Reels
Arielle Tipa
______
Lori Moseman Anderson
life jacket made only of sleeves torn from cloaks
Megan Mealor
Recurring Daymare
Sáshily Kling
History of the Hurricane
David Brennan
no.22 (Whiteout)
Rachel J. Bennett
Castle bakes casseroles for the masses & ties
Evelína Kolářová
beef steak
Jessica Mehta
The Weight of Secrets
J.D. Anthony
and only through walking do you arrive.