Size / / /

So maybe he's not the most handsome man

in the city, and his clothes smell of bats and incense.

When he comes home to me with his rope-scarred arms

and echo-filled head,

I know he will attend to my needs in other ways,

watching my lips and feeling the tremolo

of my heart—it's the carillon

we play together, this silent tintinnabulation of ours,

a day-long

caesura between the iron peal of everything else.

As for his hump, it is no more

gibbous than my own

fleshly burden,

wherein the churchly nave of which

a son or daughter climbs

and chimes, searching for hidden bells.




Robert Borski works for a consortium of elves repairing shoes in Stevens Point, Wisconsin. You can read more of his work in our archives.
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.
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.
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
Issue 15 Jul 2024
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