Tim McCoy
Damned
rose–wilt cracked vase openings
to the snow–grip’s spring–arrest
urge tightening into freeze
openings are dry
openings
making idiot of any thaw’s
too–iced drums
the call’s abandoned
in the widening snow–gestapo’s jurisdiction
of loins
The Last Word
the last word after stopped lips
laboring against sun–eye excess
tiny burn–atrocities pullulate a second vesuvius
at simple noon
the last word shields its sound against
pores smoking in the sun’s lascivious glare
the last word crosses into aorta currents
to vibrate the heart–cavern finally making
the reddest pool shine with flashing fish–scale crowns interrupt
the gaining ash
Tim McCoy holds an MFA from Syracuse University. He’s had work published in Ekphrasis, Stone Canoe, and elsewhere. He lives and teaches in the Syracuse area.
More from Vol. 34, Issue 3
To Sing, In Dixie // The Extinct Fresh Water Mussels of the Detroit River // The Ivory Gull Under the Bridge Over the Flint River // Noon in a Corner Café: The Sign
Terry Blackhawk
Saints, Tonguing
Mitchell Glazier
Sonnet II
Louise Labé, trans. Leah Souffrant
Damned // The Last Word
Tim McCoy
Poem for the Unborn // Classical Mechanics // Indigenous Plants // Thirteenth Wedding Anniversary
Nicole Walker
Summons in the Form of an Invasion // 37 Panoramic Views of Edo
Steve Barbaro
The Bird Girl
Jessica Cuello
“The ply of spirits on bodies": Diaspora and Metamorphosis in Donald Revell's “Short Fantasia"
Mark Irwin
Morning Quake // Friday's Quake // Sunday's Quake
Jacqueline Lyons
Review of Norman Finkelstein's The Ratio of Reason to Magic: New and Selected Poems
Andrew S. Nicholson