Dotted Line Dotted Line

Poetry Summer 2021    fiction    all issues

Cover of Poetry Summer 2021


Diana Akhmetianova

Monique Jonath
& other poems

Alix Christofides Lowenthal
Before and After
& other poems

Rebbekah Vega-Romero
La Persona Que Quiero Ser
& other poems

Oak Morse
Incandescent Light That Peeks Through Secrets
& other poems

George Kramer
The Last Aspen Stand
& other poems

Elizabeth Sutterlin
Meditations on Mars
& other poems

Holly Marie Roland
& other poems

Devon Bohm
A Bouquet of Cherry Blossoms
& other poems

Ana Reisens
In praise of an everyday object
& other poems

Maxi Wardcantori
The Understory
& other poems

William A. Greenfield
& other poems

Karen L Kilcup
The Sky Is Just About to Fall
& other poems

Pamela Wax
He dreams of birds
& other poems

Mary Jane Panke
& other poems

a mykl herdklotz
Mouettes et Mastodontes
& other poems

Claudia Maurino
Good Pilgrim
& other poems

Mary Pacifico Curtis
One Mystical Day
& other poems

Tess Cooper
Airport Poem
& other poems

Peter Kent
Congress of Ravens
& other poems

Kimberly Sailor
White Women Running
& other poems

Bill Cushing
Creating a Corpse
& other poems

Everett Roberts
& other poems

Susan Marie Powers
Canada Geese
& other poems

Ana Reisens

At first I thought
I wanted to be a poet

I yearned for paper birds,

for words that echoed

from the deep cathedrals of the earth,

words that gave birth

to the stories of bark

and wove into the evening

like starlings.

I wanted to open a space

for the dappled strands of day,

to trace the reaching veins

of the leaves and transcribe

the ancient language

of the waterlilies.

I longed to understand

the alchemy of sand,

the great silence of stones,

to paint the edges between

the river and the minnow.

But words are elusive birds

and I am still learning to sing.

So I offer my fledgling voice

to the sky to rejoice

in the wild symphony

of all things—

to be a note in this brief

and holy melody,

an ocean,

a firefly,

a poem.

In praise of an everyday object

Can you see it?

Just there, resting on the wood,

the morning light draped over it

like a wool quilt.

Color was invented

for the ballet of pigments,

this simple secret

begging to be witnessed.

Take it in your hand.

Can you sense

the spinning


of atoms?

How can something be so quiet

yet so alive?

Quickly, now,

before the mind decides

to cry out its bad advice—

hold this dazzling moment

in your open palm and answer:

Is there anything life could give you

more beautiful than this?


There’s a place

where the ache

of the city


like a blurred screen

and the cypresses

rehearse their symphonies.

In the evenings,

the crickets visit

to weave their memories

into the air

as the whippoorwill

holds vigil

over the clearing.

Meet me there.

We can sit back

as the lines of day fade

and listen to the melody

our cells have not yet forgotten.

Ana Reisens is an emerging poet and writer with a background in translation. She was the recipient of the 2020 Barbara Mandigo Kelly Peace Poetry Award and you can find her poetry in Subterranean Blue and forthcoming in the Belmont Story Review, Sunlight Press, and Inkwell Journal, among others. She lives in Spain, where she enjoys spending time in nature and is perpetually in search of a good meal.

Dotted Line