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POETRY
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TWO POEMS by Kerrin McCadden
HOMING The sky is at the feeder again. I mean the indigo bunting with no bearings for home. A man pulls into the driveway after work—crunching stones, hallooing up the stairs— wanting to know about my day. All the days are wranglers, I say. I am not able to cite my sources, but I make…
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TWO POEMS by Kyle Dargan
BEAUTY Miss Iraq, the first crowned in forty years of foreign meddling, means it when she wishes for world peace— her cousins’ deaths both tallied by sectarian violence in her war-quilted, war-torn nation. She is aware the pageantry— pinup smiles and stiff, cupped hands (their rotational gesture) —will not beckon peace. Salvation may have…
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CASTRATO by Annie Kim
I want to be a boy, you tell the man who analyzes you. Free of desire. He nods, light flashing off his thin gold spectacles. No one called the singing boys castrati to their face. So evirato, meaning one unmanned, musico: one making music. Boys aren’t free of desire, of course— Though not by ordinary…
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