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For each question below, use red ink to circle the option that best describes your beliefs. Please do not omit any questions. While undertaking this exercise, it is ideal to repress your perceptions of climate change, sexuality- and gender-based violence, or white supremacist activities occurring in your immediate vicinity. If answering these questions distresses you, you may wish to consult a herpetologist.

1. a) Rage is a terror, a murderous unholy apocalypse.
b) Without rage blazing in my gut, I cannot fly.

2. a) Greenhouse gas emissions and rising sea levels constitute increasingly urgent conundrums.
b) The flames erupting from my nostrils sometimes prevent me from enjoying a good night’s sleep.

3. a) Refugee children should not be caged at U.S. borders.
b) Refugee children should not be caged at U.S. borders.

4. a) Poems should create joy, lifting us out of grief and terror.
b) My eyes are slitted but I can see you just fine with your needle-sword, your tinfoil helmet. I am only pretending to doze as, on tiptoes, you approach your doom.

5. a) People who say, “Oh, I don’t pay attention to politics” are difficult to converse with.
b) [gout of stinking fire]

6. a) Violence is bad.
b) Yes, it is very bad.

7. a) Then why have you become so ugly? Anger is a toxin. A woman needs to let it go.
b) It is easier to release poison when the shadow of your enormous wings blights the countryside. Then, like a dried-up dream or fading leaf, it drops away.



Lesley Wheeler’s newest poetry collection is The State She’s In; her first novel, Unbecomingwas published by Aqueduct Press in May 2020. Poetry Editor of Shenandoahshe lives in Virginia.
Current Issue
22 Apr 2024

We’d been on holiday at the Shoon Sea only three days when the incident occurred. Dr. Gar had been staying there a few months for medical research and had urged me and my friend Shooshooey to visit.
...
Tu enfiles longuement la chemise des murs,/ tout comme d’autres le font avec la chemise de la mort.
The little monster was not born like a human child, yelling with cold and terror as he left his mother’s womb. He had come to life little by little, on the high, three-legged bench. When his eyes had opened, they met the eyes of the broad-shouldered sculptor, watching them tenderly.
Le petit monstre n’était pas né comme un enfant des hommes, criant de froid et de terreur au sortir du ventre maternel. Il avait pris vie peu à peu, sur la haute selle à trois pieds, et quand ses yeux s’étaient ouverts, ils avaient rencontré ceux du sculpteur aux larges épaules, qui le regardaient tendrement.
We're delighted to welcome Nat Paterson to the blog, to tell us more about his translation of Léopold Chauveau's story 'The Little Monster'/ 'Le Petit Monstre', which appears in our April 2024 issue.
For a long time now you’ve put on the shirt of the walls,/just as others might put on a shroud.
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