Yellow Arrow Journal, Emblazon: Vol. VIII, No. 2, Fall 2023

By Yellow Arrow Publishing

Yellow Arrow Journal is a biannual literary journal of creative nonfiction, poetry, and cover art by writers and artists who identify as women. The theme for this issue is EMBLAZON and addresses life's fleeting moments that make us who we are.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Yellow Arrow Publishing
• Release date: Nov 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798868961281

Book preview

Emblazon

Yellow Arrow Journal

Creative nonfiction, poetry, and cover art by writers and

artists who identify as women

Vol. VIII, No. 2

Fall 2023

Emblazon

Editor-in-Chief

Kapua Iao

Guest Editor

Leticia Priebe Rocha

Editorial Associates

Sydney Alexander, Adhithi Anjali, Angela Firman,

Meg Gamble, Samantha Pomerantz, Kait Quinn,

Beck Snyder, and Beverly Yirenkyi

Contributors

Janet E. Aalfs, Susan Ayres, Elizabeth Birch, Aliyah Blattner,

Samantha Chagollan, Kae Chatman, Emma Conlon,

Robin Dellabough, Sam Donndelinger, Joanne Durham,

Emma Gawlinski, Monique Harris, Corinne Hawk,

Bethany Jarmul, Dana Knott, Kaiya Lankhaar, Amy S. Lerman,

Morgan Neering, Vanessa Y. Niu, K.S. Palakovic,

Sarah Josephine Pennington, Laura Rockhold, Kit Roper,

Dani Sacchi, Erika Seshadri, Wendy Swift, Alli Tervo,

Angela Townsend, and Sterling Wilmer

Cover Art

Elizabeth Jiménez Montelongo

PO Box 65185, Baltimore, MD 21209

[e-mail]

Yellow Arrow Journal - Emblazon

Copyright © 2023 by Yellow Arrow Publishing

All rights reserved.

ISBN (paperback): 979-8-9883176-0-9

ISSN (print): 2688-3015

ISSN (online): 2688-3023

Cover art by Elizabeth Jiménez Montelongo (ejmontelongo.com).

Cover and interior design by Yellow Arrow Publishing.

For more information, see yellowarrowpublishing.com.

We prioritize the unique voice and style of each of our authors.

Every writer has a story to tell and every story is worth telling.

Yellow Arrow Publishing

The Field

Alli Tervo

I think I saw us all

in the lavender field today—

our hearts purpled and budded,

our minds oriented sunward.

And it convinced me of some order,

that we’re stitched at the root of one another.

The usual rhythm of fear in my chest

hushed. The wind took over,

metronomed my lungs.

The grass swept up

like the hair on my neck

and the once tangled universe

felt wild and familiar—

it and I were close there, friends

and touching, settling down

on the quiet like hummingbirds.

My eyes were radical

messengers: I saw people in the flowers.

Necks cutting through the same wind,

backs slicked by the same rain.

And I breathed for the first time I could remember.

Beautiful us, filling the air!

How did we ever lose each other?

How can we find ourselves again?

Love is to stand in the sun where the risk is.

love through language

Table of Contents

The Field

Alli Tervo

Introduction

Leticia Priebe Rocha

Bloom

Elizabeth Birch

Aquinnah

Erika Seshadri

Myths and Lore

Sarah Josephine Pennington

My Head Is Full Of Random Memories But I Can’t Remember Who I’ve Slept With

Robin Dellabough

Interfaith

Wendy Swift

Reflections

Joanne Durham

End Credits

Samantha Chagollan

LETTER TO MY DAUGHTER

Laura Rockhold

On Going Home

Kaiya Lankhaar

On Leaving the Job

Monique Harris

Pimiento Cheese

Susan Ayres

Belonging

Bethany Jarmul

Record Player Plays Franco-American Blues

Vanessa Y. Niu

BOTH/AND

Dani Sacchi

Texas Summers

Sterling Wilmer

Virgin Birth

Amy S. Lerman

Untouched

Sam Donndelinger

Summer Solstice (Kingston Psychiatric Ward, 2017)

Corinne Hawk

My Radiation Oncologist’s Fabulous Boots

Emma Gawlinski

A CANYON OF FOLDS

Aliyah Blattner

Queer Maps

Janet E. Aalfs

GENESIS: revision

Emma Conlon

What I Loved About You

Kae Chatman

A study in Orange

Kit Roper

Traveling Companions

Angela Townsend

At Dusk

Morgan Neering

Cosmology

Dana Knott

If I had two hours to live

K.S. Palakovic

On the Cover: Cycles

Elizabeth Jiménez Montelongo

Contributors

Dear Readers,

Looking back on my existence, I showed signs of being a poet from an early age. I was a quiet, shy child, but my inner world often felt like a dam about to burst. As children do, I found little ways to move about the world with these too-big-for-my-body feelings. I would tell the moon my secrets. I wrote long thank you notes for Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. I would put my dolls through elaborately agonizing storylines. I cried to Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On as I performed an interpretive dance. Today, I view this ability to imprint great feeling in ephemeral images and moments as a blessing. I have learned to release my emotions into the world through writing, but I did not always know how to tap into my nature to pour out onto the page.

When I left behind my native country of Brazil and uprooted to the U.S. at the age of nine, I needed an outlet for all the complicated emotions that accompanied that transition. My yet undiscovered poet’s nature lent itself perfectly to devouring stories. My love of reading blossomed as an escape from navigating an entirely new world. Beloved characters traversing fantastical trials and tribulations were far more compelling than being mocked by my peers for mispronouncing words in a new language. Writing soon followed reading as a haven when we began writing essays in language arts class. I am transformed into my fourth-grade self whenever I think about the first time my teacher picked my essay to read as an example of excellence to the class. The teacher did not point out any grammatical or spelling mistakes. Instead, she spoke of my great promise as a writer. In that moment,