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Poetry Summer 2014    fiction    all issues


Anne Rankin-Kotchek
Letter to the World
from a Dying Woman
& other poems

Sara Graybeal
Ghetto City
& other poems

Tee Iseminger
& other poems

Lisa Beth Fulgham
After They Sold the Cows...
& other poems

Mary Mills
The Practical Knowledge
of Women
& other poems

Monika Cassel
Waldschatten, Muttersprache
& other poems

Michael Fleming
To a Fighter
& other poems

Daniel Stewart
& other poems

John Glowney
& other poems

Hannah Callahan
The Ptarmigan Suite
& other poems

Lee Kisling
How the Music Came
to My Father
& other poems

Jose A. Alcantara
Finding the God Particle
& other poems

David A. Bart
Veteran’s Park
& other poems

Greg Grummer
War Reportage
& other poems

Rande Mack
& other poems

J. K. Kitchen
Anger Kills Himself
& other poems

Jim Pascual Agustin
The Man Who Wished
He Was Lego
& other poems

Jessica M. Lockhart
Scylla of the Alabama
& other poems

James P. Leveque
Three Films of Jean Painlevé
& other poems

Kelsey Charles
& other poems

Therese L. Broderick
& other poems

Lane Falcon
& other poems

Ricky Ray
The Bird
& other poems

Phoebe Reeves
Every Petal
& other poems

David Livingstone Fore
Eternity is a very long time...
& other poems

Tim Hawkins
Northern Idyll
& other poems

Abigail F. Taylor
On the Pillow Where You Lie
& other poems

Joey DeSantis
Baby Names
& other poems

Cameron Price
Every Morning
& other poems

David Walker
Sestina for Housesitting
& other poems

Helen R. Peterson
& other poems

Monika Cassel

Waldschatten, Muttersprache

(in memory of Erik Cassel)

The tree is broken in the light.

Every rose folds shut—

Quiet, they say,

like the face of the woman

who looks up from her reflection in the forest pool

to gaze at you, at me, to hear the veery’s call.

You asked for dark and light, for here and gone.

The veery’s notes resound unseen;

they haven’t asked you here

to tender me again with yellow petals.

Marsh marigold, Dutchman’s breeches, lady’s slipper,

chilled medicines I tucked under your tongue, your tired whisper—

These are the hard coins of our dreams:

fish-breath,   rain-slept,   heart-kept.

Thrift, ca. 1946

“Die Fahne Hoch,” (“Raise the Flag”) co-anthem during the Third Reich, was composed by Horst Wessel, Nazi hero/martyr, and outlawed in Germany after 1945.

She made me a new red dress

when the schools opened again:

pulled the old flag out from a drawer,

clipped the stitches

from the circle in the center, held it up,

shook her head

at the black spider,

“good fabric

and a pity to waste it

but there’s just nothing

I can make out of this,”

spread the red rectangle

and cut the pattern;

just enough.

A lot of girls wear red

these days. At recess

boys patrol the playground,

yank up

our skirts. They sing

Horst Wessel’s song

as they run by,

“Die Fahne hoch!”

Hertha Tielsch to Maria Radler,
Garßen bei Celle, Germany,
January 1, 1947.

I’ve enclosed

your handkerchief

which I am returning

to you, unfortunately

still with the stain.

I just laid it in the snow

one more time

to bleach—

Maybe that

will help.

Monika Cassel is the English department chair at New Mexico School for the Arts, a statewide public arts high school in Santa Fe. With the support of the Lannan Foundation, she has developed a successful creative writing minor at the school. She is working on a manuscript of poems on her German family’s WWII history; her translations of the poet Durs Grünbein are forthcoming in Asymptote and Structo Magazine.

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