Size / / /

An accelerating force brought you

to the bar. Some push

or pull that made you change

velocity. Made you break away,

see the light that comes

from the inside.

Long bar table shining

like heaven. Sit down. Let me

tell you my theory of everything—

beer first, then physics.

One abstraction after another.

Then your hand, my knee.

There is nothing more concrete.

A force has both magnitude

and direction, what made you turn

to me?




Marci Rae Johnson teaches at Valparaiso University and is the Poetry Editor for WordFarm press. Her poems appeared in The Valparaiso Poetry Review, The Louisville Review, and 32 Poems, among others. Her first collection of poetry will be published by Sage Hill Press later this year.
Current Issue
22 Jul 2024

By: Mónika Rusvai
Translated by: Vivien Urban
Jadwiga is the city. Her body dissolves in the walls, her consciousness seeps into the cracks, her memory merges with the memories of buildings.
Jadwiga a város. Teste felszívódik a falakban, tudata behálózza a repedéseket, emlékezete összekeveredik az épületek emlékezetével.
Aqui jaz a rainha, gigante e imóvel, cada um de seus seis braços caídos e abertos, curvados, tomados de leves espasmos, como se esquecesse de que não estava mais viva.
By: Sourav Roy
Translated by: Carol D'Souza
I said sky/ and with a stainless-steel plate covered/ the rotis going stale 
मैंने कहा आकाश/ और स्टेनलेस स्टील की थाली से ढक दिया/ बासी पड़ रही रोटियों को
By: H. Pueyo
Translated by: H. Pueyo
Here lies the queen, giant and still, each of her six arms sprawled, open, curved, twitching like she forgot she no longer breathed.
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