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Issue 1.2

Fall 2021
1.2 DK_edited.jpg

Carrie Nassif


This poem came from a random word generator search yielding the word “seam,” and I imagined this internal world of minerals and scars and mending.

we thought of ourselves           as a lustrous gold

a malleable solid      steeped within fleeting veins


that which we sought                 that what was got


by this mining       our own pluck        our own grit


we unearthed it with worn shovels       these scars


and stains like badges    like trinkets       like coins


even so            something burrows                 a soft


a quieting thing        fettered      and shut    tightly


against its own      twin       self       some part of us


putty-bare and edible     skinned     and    spiraled


peelings       all pinched       and clamped       shut


against the commotion          this city         of meat


we live in        the ranting the rotting the baggage


within                     as if we could                  by jaws


by jowl        by cheek       by mouth        if we could


sever      could chew        could only ever      cleave


could hack        could slice   ourselves    from       it 


in increments or swerves       or in swift in grasping


chops        all this riving         this trying        to split


to pry apart        what               must   only     needs


kindness                          to                                open

Carrie Nassif is a queer poet, photographer, parent and psychologist with a private practice in the rural Midwest. She lives happily with her partner, their 16 year-old future marine biologist, a very spoiled bearded dragon, an aging but sassy orange cat, and an aggressively friendly 65 pound lap dog. Recent work can be found in the Gravity of The Thing, Tupelo Quarterly, and Pomona Valley Review, featured in AROHO's Waves series, and in several anthologies.

Carrie's Book Recommendations

I can't say enough about Eduardo Galeano's Mirrors: Stories of Almost Everyone. I stumbled upon it in an airport in 2011 and reread it almost every other year. It's an insightful juxtaposition of patterns in our collective histories.

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