Robert Evory
Cartel Sadness

Robert Evory - Cartel Sadness

Robert Evory is a poet and musician from Detroit, Michigan. With an MFA from Syracuse University he currently teaches creative… Read more »
Jen DeGregorio

Jen DeGregorio - Intruder

Jen DeGregorio’s poetry and prose has appeared in Able Muse, The Collagist, PANK, The Rumpus, and other publications. She… Read more »
Caitlin Scarano
Moon Among Mammals

Caitlin Scarano - Moon Among Mammals

Caitlin Scarano is a poet in the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee PhD creative writing program. She was a finalist for the… Read more »
Jehanne Dubrow
Nocturne with Orders to Yokosuka

Jehanne Dubrow - Nocturne with Orders to Yokosuka

Jehanne Dubrow is the author of five poetry collections, including most recently The Arranged Marriage (U of New Mexico P,… Read more »
John Walser
Nothing Howls

John Walser - Nothing Howls

John Walser, an associate professor of English at Marian University in Wisconsin and a founding member of the Foot of… Read more »
Amie Whittemore
Spell for the End of Grief

Amie Whittemore - Spell for the End of Grief

Amie Whittemore earned her MFA from Southern Illinois University Carbondale and her poems have appeared in North American Review, Smartish… Read more »
Gary Hawkins
The Surveyor

Gary Hawkins - The Surveyor

Gary Hawkins is a poet, teacher, and scholar who grew up in the suburbs of the West. His debut collection… Read more »

Nocturne with Orders to Yokosuka

Jehanne Dubrow

The night before you leave,
our bed is a port city bristling
with an arsenal of ships.

The dog swims through the covers,
creating currents in her dreams.
How lucky, this peace of hers,

while I’m the reactor
whose waters will not cool,
fuel made molten, the quick

contamination of all life
along the coast. I turn away
from this, your departure, real

as a story I watch on the news,
by which I mean debris
in the sea and metal-sting

in the mouth—
days after the tidal wave,
the crew was told to stop drinking

from the tap, stop showering,
all tests returning negative,
though how to explain the pain,

fingers puffed up
like poisonous fish—fear a thing,
which cannot be measured.

When you’re away I’ll say tsunami.
I’ll… Read more »