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Poetry Winter 2017    fiction    all issues

Cover of Poetry Winter 2017 issue


Cover Thought-Forms

Laura Apol
On My Fiftieth Birthday I Return
& other poems

Jihyun Yun
& other poems

Jamie Ross
Red Jetta
& other poems

Sarah Blanchard
Carolina Clay
& other poems

lauren a. boisvert
Save a Seat for Me in the Void
& other poems

Faith Shearin
A Pirate at Midlife
& other poems

Helen Yeoman-Shaw
Calling Long Distance
& other poems

Sarah B. Sullivan
& other poems

Timothy Walsh
Metro Messenger
& other poems

Gabriel Spera
& other poems

Zoë Harrison
Pattee Creek
& other poems

AJ Powell
& other poems

Alexa Poteet
The Man Who Got off the Train Between Madrid and Valencia
& other poems

Marcie McGuire
Still Birth
& other poems

Kim Drew Wright
Elephants Standing
& other poems

Michael Jenkins
The Garden Next Door
& other poems

Nicky Nicholson-Klingerman
& other poems

Doni Faber
Man Moth
& other poems

M. Underwood
In Other Words
& other poems

Carson Pynes
Diet Coke
& other poems

Bucky Ignatius
Something Old, . . .
& other poems

Violet Mitchell
Deleting Emails the Week After Kevin Died
& other poems

Sam Collier
Nocturne in an Empty Sea
& other poems

Meryl Natchez
Equivocal Activist
& other poems

William Godbey
A Corn Field in Los Angeles
& other poems

Don Hogle
Austin Wallson Confesses
& other poems

Writer's Site

Helen Yeoman-Shaw

The Mug My Aunt Made

Tonight I sip tea from a mug

my aunt threw on a wheel. Tree rings

of brown clay stretch up, curve into

the lip. Below, waves of sky blue

melt into olive as if they

hug the mountain range at whose feet

my aunt built her dream house with her

lover. Further down, colors blend:

rose, mauve, indigo, sienna

streaking across the bottom like

the Painted Desert. I fit three

fingers through the thick handle. There’s

a pressed platform on which to rest

my thumb. I look like my aunt. That’s

why she sent her mug home with me.

Or maybe it’s her secret way

of telling me that she also

knows how it feels to have your heart

pulled apart then gloriously

reattached, but only after

years of scoring and slipping. As

I enfold the same piece of earth

my aunt embraced, I replay the

message from my mother, study

the mug’s glazed palette, wonder if

these particular shades exist

in the Mediterranean

where my aunt was celebrating

her ten year anniversary

and if the hues bled together

when the blood vessel in her brain


Calling Long Distance

When I call you today

I’ll imagine you sitting

at your kitchen table

hillsides of your beloved

Heidelberg wrapping around you

sea pinks blooming on your balcony

as they do in May.

I’m sure Uncle Johnny will answer

neither of us surprised by the other’s voice

after all, it is your birthday.

We’ll talk for an hour or so

without mentioning your name

but you’ll hang between us like a sheet

draped over a clothesline

a lifetime of memories flapping softly

brushing against us as we reach for pins

to keep you from blowing away.

When I Leave

I will leave the moon with you.

She will be your night-light

pushing darkness away

so you may sink safely into slumber.

She will be your keeper of time.

You may count the days

through her opening and closing eye

your grief gradually waning.

She will be your shield

deflecting the sun’s blazing revelations

softening his sharp glare so you may

gaze into the heavens unblinded.

She will be your balloon

her beam a silken string.

Whenever you ache, reach high

and she will lift you up to me.


Each spring, I bring my

mom daffodils, embrace her,

palms spilling sunlight.

Night Blooming Jasmine

Your hands, two wings

shivering with summer heat

spread like a butterfly across my back, and I


arch my opalescent face toward the waxing moon

open my mouth, pour my delirious sweetness

into the sticky night.

Helen Yeoman-Shaw is a Los Angeles based poet and member of Writers at Work. This is her first time participating in the Sixfold process, and she relishes her experience as both educational and inspiring. She moves into 2018 as a newly unemployed newlywed and enthusiastically waits to see what her future holds.

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