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Summer 2014

Three Poems

 The Dun-Shi (He Went Dancing)   The Body Above   Where to Look for the Sleagh Maith (Margaret’s Song)   Mary McMyne is an assistant professor at Lake Superior State University and co-editor of Border Crossing. She is the author of a chapbook, Wolf Skin (Dancing Girl Press, 2014) and the past recipient of the Faulkner [...]

Ghost

Once I was a man of few words even if behind it my mind was feverish. Not many moments of calm, though I learned to keep quiet. I lived in a room overlooking the pier and a field of dandelions. The dandelion spoke the advantages of taking root as well as flying and how to [...]

Aerograms

“A letter from America was waiting for me at school this morning, from Mom, saying that Gram Krosschell had died.” This was an entry in my journal on March 22, 1976, in Chungmu-si, South Korea. I don’t remember receiving that letter. It was a long time ago. But I can reconstruct how that moment would [...]

Two Poems

 All Night, I Dream of Prisons Bless the cloud that blessed the sun and hid it from my anger, my red face. In the sometimes broad and often pressed so tight that nothing can squeeze through container of my mind, love exists. So, too, there are flashes of a red so pure it is my [...]

Talking to Plants

An old man with his feet before the fire In robes of green, in garments of adieu. ~ Roethke Goodnight, and by dawn leaves open and unroll toward my breathing. So many, they collect all the light. Ferns, peace lily, ivy for my talon hands to tend and water and prune. It smells like dew [...]

Hidden Tracks

Once upon a time is what Noalee wishes she could say about this time of her life. She sighs and glances at the burgundy underbelly of the hotel awning. She was hoping travelling to a different place would help, but this trip to Atlanta, her annual visit to company headquarters, may be making things worse. [...]

Blue Moon

I pace the hospital room while medical staff monitors the inner workings of my son’s beautiful body. They patch his exterior—prop, unroll, swab, and cover. I stand at the foot of the bed, holding his feet as if doing so will keep him here, not in this gurney, but on this planet. Owen. I think [...]