Sixfold Poetry Summer 2017

By Sixfold

Sixfold is an all-writer-voted journal. All writers who upload their manuscripts vote to select the highest-voted $1000 prize-winning manuscripts and all the short stories and poetry published in each issue.

In Sixfold Poetry Summer 2017:
Kathryn Merwin | For Aaron, Disenchanted & other poems
William Stevens | Celestial Bodies & other poems
Kendra Poole | Take-Off, or The Philosophy of Leaving & other poems
AJ Powell | Mama Atlas & other poems
Matt Farrell | Waves in the dark & other poems
Timothy Walsh | Eating a Horsemeat Sandwich at Astana Airport & other poems
Nancy Rakoczy | Adam & other poems
Joshua Levy | Venezuela Evening & other poems
Ryan Lawrence | Vegan Teen Daughter vs. Worthless Dad & other poems
George Longenecker | Yard Sale & other poems
Susanna Kittredge | My Heart & other poems
Morgan Gilson | Dostoevsky & other poems
Jim Pascual Agustin | The Annihilation of Bees & other poems
Taylor Bell | Browsing Tinder in an Aldi & other poems
David Anderson | Continental Rift & other poems
Charles McGregor | The Boys That Don’t Know & other poems
Cameron Scott | Ashes to Smashes, Dust to Rust & other poems
Kenneth Homer | Inferno Redux & other poems
Alice Ashe | lilith & other poems
Kimberly Sailor | Marriage's Weekly Schedule & other poems
Kim Alfred | Soul Eclipse & other poems

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sixfold
• Release date: Aug 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370010424

Sixfold

Sixfold is an all-writer-voted short-story and poetry journal. All writers who submit their manuscripts vote to select the highest-voted $1000 prize-winning manuscripts and all the short stories and poetry published in each issue.

Book preview

Sixfold Poetry Summer 2017

by Sixfold

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2017 Sixfold and The Authors

www.sixfold.org

Sixfold is a completely writer-voted journal. The writers who upload their manuscripts vote to select the prize-winning manuscripts and the short stories and poetry published in each issue. All participating writers’ equally weighted votes act as the editor, instead of the usual editorial decision-making organization of one or a few judges, editors, or select editorial board.

Each issue is free to read online and downloadable as PDF and e-book. Paperback book available at production cost including shipping.

Cover Art by Marija Zaric.

http://www.marijazaric.com

License Notes

Copyright 2017 Sixfold and The Authors. This issue may be reproduced, copied, and distributed for noncommercial purposes, provided both Sixfold and the Author of any excerpt of this issue are acknowledged. Thank you for your support.

Sixfold

Garrett Doherty, Publisher

[e-mail]

www.sixfold.org

[phone]

Sixfold Poetry Summer 2017

Kathryn Merwin | For Aaron, Disenchanted & other poems

William Stevens | Celestial Bodies & other poems

Kendra Poole | Take-Off, or The Philosophy of Leaving & other poems

AJ Powell | Mama Atlas & other poems

Matt Farrell | Waves in the dark & other poems

Timothy Walsh | Eating a Horsemeat Sandwich at Astana Airport & other poems

Nancy Rakoczy | Adam & other poems

Joshua Levy | Venezuela Evening & other poems

Ryan Lawrence | Vegan Teen Daughter vs. Worthless Dad & other poems

George Longenecker | Yard Sale & other poems

Susanna Kittredge | My Heart & other poems

Morgan Gilson | Dostoevsky & other poems

Jim Pascual Agustin | The Annihilation of Bees & other poems

Taylor Bell | Browsing Tinder in an Aldi & other poems

David Anderson | Continental Rift & other poems

Charles McGregor | The Boys That Don’t Know & other poems

Cameron Scott | Ashes to Smashes, Dust to Rust & other poems

Kenneth Homer | Inferno Redux & other poems

Alice Ashe | lilith & other poems

Kimberly Sailor | Marriage's Weekly Schedule & other poems

Kim Alfred | Soul Eclipse & other poems

Contributor Notes

Kathryn Merwin

Jersey

I.

A girl storms out of her body to sing you the highway: your

skin is calligraphy and ink. Back turned, soap and seawater

leather her palms.

II.

The tide batters your knees: blood-puckers of coast, blue

bruises dusted over telescope skin. Nothing was ever more

worth it.

III.

Your words are gloved in oyster silk, the low bass tones of

twilight. You probably wouldn’t know me now. I bite my

tongue, my teeth taste like cough-syrup.

IV.

I was thinking of silver needles, tire-tracks in a sliver of

moonlight. Route 13, the wooden house by the hospital,

white bridge and fuck you, carved in the rail.

V.

The sharp bones of oak trees keep you safe somewhere

in Jersey. The aria lifts: your eyes, blackened sea pearls,

whisper, don’t you lie to me.

VI.

Up north, a blue wind lifts the hair from your shoulders. You

will wade through your bogs, fill your terrariums, slowly

become fluent in the flutter of seabird wings.

The Yellow Marrow

I could have loved the wolf. Alone he was a fist of night sky,

body of starlings, hydrogen, helium. I held a flashlight

to his chest, traced the glowing web of his arteries to prove that something moved

within him. He buried small things in in the storm gulch: elk’s teeth, brass keys, warped

violin strings. Sharp teeth dug craters into my throat. Now I’ve made you the moon. I could have

loved the wolf, but I wanted to be hunter. Wanted teeth, blood, bone. I wanted the yellow

marrow.

Inglewood

I wish to cry. Yet, I laugh,

and my lipstick leaves a red stain like a bloody crescent

moon on the top of the beer can.

—Sylvia Plath

My skin is a sheet of Braille: moon-hungry,

shiver by the widening current, curling

into pale shins, bewitching me further

into its darkening plane. The moon, hanging

like a ball over the western seaboard,

annihilating, with every glance. I am

the girl who does not dance: your

eyes catch the light, your teeth catch

my hair. Night

is temporary insanity: barefoot girls

with tambourines, purple lights

in Santa Monica.

For Aaron, Disenchanted

Something once soft hums in you

while you sleep. I watch it lift

through you as you thrash,

flail. The bright tangerine

of your heart comes apart

in slices. I find them hidden

in your pillowcase. Mama’s eyes

are the color of your absence

now. A little more grey

than gunpowder. You

never pressed your ear to my lung. Never

tangled my synapses into sailing knots. Never

folded my body like an origami swan, passed

your secrets up