Contributions by Sarah J. Sloat

Two Poems


found in the knife drawer
with its face
punched in


The kettle erects its ephemeral city
hivelike and impossibly high

in cliffside stairs over the ocean
it piles up it vanishes
in the climb and the dive


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Here on Business

Another Vespa needles my nerves.
This whole street, this district
stinks of luxury –

and even the rain
is sick of Italy.

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Sworn to Observance

Even the dust has a life of its own
lying under the radiator –

mostly stagnant, although
it must stir, busy building
a swath of silt.

A piece of thread is swallowed;
a piece of thread may serve
to measure this…

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Issue 12 contents