July 2017 | poetry
Another of my father’s dense metal hand tools
That he’d never find or use again
once we took them from the shed.
That caught the exact size of things
by reach, touch, sight —
not needing inches and eighths
or arid calculation.
That turned perfect circles without
even trying.
That had a not-so-well-oiled joint
twisting between two sharp points, important
only in how far one was from the other.
That my brother and I blunted
by spiking it into rocky dirt and tree trunks
while almost always missing the
tiny, half rotten backyard apples
we aimed to impale.
That, after an unmeasured arc,
stuck, for a moment, just above my knee.
Lee W. Potts
Lee W. Potts has an MA in creative writing from Temple University and is a former editor of the Painted Bride Quarterly. His work has appeared in The South Street Star, Gargoyle, The Sun, and The Painted Bride Quarterly. He lives just outside of Philadelphia.
July 2017 | poetry
The night breeze kisses the amber,
coaxing it to twirl and dance
A twinkling speck of rich medallion, melting
my fingers, warming
all these downtrodden
souls.
Faceless fields of fire, voices
both green and golden, crying
for the fall of a marionette
and her puppeteer
To snip off the poisoned strings, once
and for all.
A beautiful scene to be woven
in the lies of textbooks
Calm and serene, without a trace
of crimson, yet
Where has the marionette gone when
the denouement has come?
When will all the puppeteers in the world
be rid of, cast away with their
tarnished gold?
When will all fields, scarlet and marigold, be left
to rest in peace?
These still remain, unanswered
But the streets still blossom
into golden fields, ripe
with courage and ire
An eternal blaze, kindling inside
our palms
An angel’s tune charms the streets,
lingering, joined by voices
of fire
When sorrow hangs in my heart,
drop by drop
I rise in the morning hill and
learn a little smile 1
1 “Morning Dew” (composed by Korean singer Kim Min-gi), a protest song banned under President Park Chung-hee.
Soo Young Yun
Soo Young Yun is a student living in Seoul, South Korea. She has been recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, Origami Poems Project, Ann Arbor District Library, and Writing for Peace. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Aerie International, The Best of Kindness 2017, and the Austin International Poetry Festival Di-vêrsé-city Youth Anthology.
July 2017 | poetry
A few things you will seek
the morning after: wallets, words, contact
lenses, meaning, directions. Lessons
learned upon rising: kisses can complicate
as much as language, dividing desire
does not diminish desire, no victims
exist once the sun peels back darkness,
drink and decision. You will remember
what she was quick forget: boundaries
between teachers and students, rules
to minimise complication. You will stop
dressing up for her classes. You will not
feel the need to sit in front. But for years,
you’ll waste poetry on pointless questions,
never once raising your hand to ask.
Tania De Rozario
Tania De Rozario is an artist and writer based in Singapore. She is the author of And The Walls Come Crumbling Down, (Math Paper Press | 2016) and Tender Delirium (Math Paper Press |2013) – the latter was shortlisted for the 2014 Singapore Literature Prize. Tania was the 2011 winner of Singapore’s Golden Point Award for English Poetry, and is an alumna of Hedgebrook (USA), Toji Cultural Centre (South Korea), Sangam House (India), The Substation (Singapore) and The Unifiedfield (Spain). Her poetry and fiction have been published in journals and anthologies in Singapore, India and the USA, while her visual art has been exhibited in Singapore, the USA, Europe and the UK. She also runs EtiquetteSG, a platform that develops and showcases art, writing and film by women from and in Singapore. Founded in 2010, its current work includes the development and facilitation of art and writing workshops focused on issues of gender-based violence.
