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Poetry Summer 2023    fiction    all issues


Joel Filipe

Kristina Cecka
& other poems

Gillian Freebody
The Uncivil War of Love
& other poems

LuAnn Keener-Mikenas
Skunks at Twilight
& other poems

Alyssa Sego
& other poems

Anne Marie Wells
Forest of One
& other poems

Brent M. Foster
Ode to Darwin
& other poems

Jack Giaour
trans man is feeling blue
& other poems

Alan Gann
how strange
& other poems

Richard Baldo
The Privilege
& other poems

Michael Fleming
& other poems

Holly York
As it turned out, there was no bomb on board
& other poems

Celeste Briefs
Late Poppies
& other poems

Kayla E.L. Ybarra
Goose Song
& other poems

S.E. Ingraham
Leaving to Arrive
& other poems

Rachel Robb
Molting Scarlet Tanager
& other poems

Bruce Marsland
Sauna by a Finnish lake at Midsummer
& other poems

Ellen Romano
Seven Sisters
& other poems

Greg Hart
False Coordinates
& other poems

Greg Tuleja
& other poems

Corinne Walsh
Southern Charm
& other poems

Rachel Robb

A Luna Moth Is Not a Swallowtail

That night I saw a luna moth

as big as your open hand,

sunning herself in the

back porch light. A

woman’s wide-set eyes

in a green winged face stared

back—brimming with new

dark & roiling ideas. They

say your saint chooses

you, not the other way

around. I sketched her on

napkins & in hymn books.

Declared my love

over coffee with fair

weather friends. My

far-seeing Rorschach

flown right out of the

canopy to anoint

only me, not you.

I marvelled.

& at night dreamt of

striding around town like

some vainglorious queen

in a dress of her wings

sewed together.

Then it was my birthday

& a party that required

much planning and the

laundry piled up in

little knolls,

and the car needed

new tires and the baby

split the night wide open

with his cries, clutching

his sore, shell-like ear

in the dark.

& how quickly

I forgot about the promise

of those green wings!

Red Dahlia


Darkly involute florets. Deep red

of a young person’s


Faultless head.


I could grab rough

hold of its pom-

pom blossom.

Stand between it and the sun it seeks. Crush it in my hand, when I’m sure no passersby are behind me

with their shopping bags

& her tender

gardener is asleep

in the house, unaware.

A pulling down

             What has been built,

Grown. A destroyer of

Worlds on a Tuesday


(The first frost will

win anyway, so perhaps

it barely matters.)


I am stronger than it,

this flower. Red Dahlia


And this poem is a decree,

a flag planted in the


The choice to walk away

             must count for something.

Molting Scarlet Tanager

Blood spattered

Yellow bird

On my October

Maple. Avian


Come from

The Crusades—

Tail feathers

Open like a hand.

Everything is


I’m learning:

Beauty is

Contrast. Red


Yellow breast—

Bird King of

Hearts. Bursting

With old love.

I see we are all of

Us moving

Through the

World like this.

Some more



Than others—

Rachel Robb is an English teacher living in Toronto. She placed 1st in Hamilton’s 2014 gritLit festival for a short portfolio of poems entitled, Notes from the First Year and 3rd in the 2016 Bridport Prize for flash fiction. In 2018, she graduated from the Humber School for Writers under the mentorship of Cherie Dimaline with a Letter of Distinction. Most recently, she placed 2nd in the Alice Munro Festival of the Short Story (2022).

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