Jeffrey Morgan
Another Man They Think I Am at Heart

Jeffrey Morgan - Another Man They Think I Am at Heart

Poetry
Jeffrey Morgan is the author of Crying Shame. His poems have appeared in Bellevue Literary Review, Pleiades, Rattle, Third Coast, and West Branch. Read more »
Elizabeth Langemak
Green Hole

Elizabeth Langemak - Green Hole

Poetry
Elizabeth Langemak lives in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Read more »
Mark Lee Webb
It is Raining and the Planks on Lewes Pier Bleed

Mark Lee Webb - It is Raining and the Planks on Lewes Pier Bleed

Poetry
Mark Lee Webb is a native of Kentucky, but as a teenager lived in California. He knows where a skeg is on a surfboard and how to get from Malibu to Westwood via Mulholland. But he also knows how to… Read more »
Moriah Cohen
On Learning the Year Used to be 410 Days Long

Moriah Cohen - On Learning the Year Used to be 410 Days Long

Poetry
Moriah Cohen’s poetry has been published or is forthcoming in Hayden’s Ferry Review, Hoot: A Mini Literary Magazine on a Postcard, Stone Highway Review, and Narrative where she was runner-up in… Read more »
Sally Rosen Kindred
Proposing to Dickens

Sally Rosen Kindred - Proposing to Dickens

Poetry
Sally Rosen Kindred is the author of two poetry books from Mayapple Press, No Eden (2011) and Book of Asters (2014), and a chapbook, Darling Hands, Darling Tongue (Hyacinth Girl Press, 2013). Her… Read more »
Amy Wright
Scientists Film Inside A Flying Insect

Amy Wright - Scientists Film Inside A Flying Insect

Poetry
Amy Wright is the Nonfiction Editor of Zone 3 Press and Zone 3 journal and the author of four poetry chapbooks. She received a Peter Taylor fellowship for the Kenyon Review Writers Workshop, an… Read more »
John A. Nieves
The Moment of the Fall

John A. Nieves - The Moment of the Fall

Poetry
John A. Nieves has poems forthcoming or recently published in journals such as: Southern Review, Poetry Northwest, and Fugue. He won the 2011 Indiana Review Poetry Contest and his first book, Curio… Read more »

Another Man They Think I Am at Heart

Jeffrey Morgan

I feel like I was born angry, and all my life I've been sliding
out of orbit. Nothing is on fire, but everything is,
you know? The uncleared table, the dirty cups and plates
like a city abandoned quickly, crumbs and buttery smudges, ghosts
where they touched their dinners with silver. The world is loud.
The stove's elements, red as four embarrassed faces—
like a family of them—is loud in its way. Four is a family.
Sometimes I get a little confused.
They burn and feel nothing. We do. You have to
cover them with tea kettles to hear their screams, right?
Gas is better—the blue hiss of even heat.
But that one was electric. I remember.
I cut a large garbage bag up with kitchen scissors
like one night becoming many, the past stumbling into the present
then back again as if it had forgotten something
in the other room. Why would a hero need a mask?
Elton John said it right: It's lonely out in space. I kept the fire
extinguisher close like my best girl. I was a bit of a tease.
I showed her off, the hard red tongue of her,
so stingy with her blizzard of kisses.
Read more »