Tag Archives: imagery

Banshees, Jesus, Hyenas, Sharks But No Wine

by Claire Scott

I ask him if he heard the banshees last night
baying at the moon, a sure sign of impending disaster
my husband is slicing radishes with a spoon
he looks up but says nothing Continue reading

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An Instructional Guide to Saying Thank You

by Sophia Velasquez Martinez

Overripe mangoes
melt in wicker baskets
strays sip from sprinkler head pools Continue reading

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Customer Service

by Elliott Gish

The customer has hair on his knuckles. That is the first thing I notice when I look up and see him standing in front of the service desk, his hands resting gently on its edge. The hair is black and thick, growing in wild tufts like those on the tails of wild pigs.

“Excuse me, miss. If I might have a moment of your time.” Continue reading

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Safe Harbor

by Lucas Smith

On our last day of volunteering
There were leopard sharks
In the shallows breeding.
Hundreds of sharks
Swarming like milk in coffee.
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Written on the Floor of an Office on Madison Avenue

by Michael Mingo

This morning, as the window washers pulled
their platform into place and smeared the glass
with dripping soap, I read an article

about how satellites are leaving streaks
in photographs of distant stars, like cats
scratching an antique landscape out of boredom.

Even the country nights, the author warns,
will teem with noise. They’re lucky: they can see
the sky. My office offers me a view

of other people’s views, a vista packed
so thick with masonry and glass the sky
is a faint border now. Though I twist

my line of sight around corners, through gaps
where the streets surely run, I’ve yet to see
a single patch of heaven; even the sun

is only what’s reflected on the buildings,
a problem for geometers to solve.
Is there an answer? Amidst the space debris

and fragments of façades, I still detect
the shimmers of what was: a constellation
sewn in fluorescent lights, a swarm of rockets

all dancing to the music of the spheres.
It’s hardly consolation, but the view
is raw material. It must be finished.


Michael Mingo is a poet and medical editor from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He earned his MFA in poetry from the Johns Hopkins Writing Seminars, and his work has appeared or is forthcoming in Spillway, RHINO, Third Coast, and The McNeese Review, among other journals.

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