Rebecca Aronson
Dear Gravity [Shall I Call You Shiva?]

Rebecca Aronson - Dear Gravity [Shall I Call You Shiva?]

Poetry
Rebecca Aronson is the author of Ghost Child of the Atalanta Bloom, winner of the 2016 Orison Books Poetry Prize and finalist for the 2017 New Mexico/Arizona Book Awards, and Creature, Creature,… Read more »
Dannye Romine Powell
Early Autumn

Dannye Romine Powell - Early Autumn

Poetry
Dannye Romine Powell’s fourth collection (2015) is Nobody Calls Me Darling Anymore from Press 53. Her poems have appeared over the years in Prairie Schooner, Poetry, Ploughshares, Gettysburg Review,… Read more »
Nancy Chen Long
Eight Ways of Looking at a Man-Kite

Nancy Chen Long - Eight Ways of Looking at a Man-Kite

Poetry
Nancy Chen Long is the author of Light into Bodies (University of Tampa Press, 2017), winner of the Tampa Review Poetry Prize. She is the recipient of a National Endowment of the Arts Creative Writing… Read more »
Carolyn Oliver
Horse Latitudes

Carolyn Oliver - Horse Latitudes

Poetry
Carolyn Oliver’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in FIELD, Indiana Review, The Shallow Ends, The Greensboro Review, Booth, Glass, Lunch Ticket, and elsewhere. She won the 2018 Writer’s Block… Read more »
Julie Marie Wade
Portrait of Regret as a Door-to-Door Salesman

Julie Marie Wade - Portrait of Regret as a Door-to-Door Salesman

Poetry
Julie Marie Wade is the author of ten collections of poetry and prose, including Wishbone: A Memoir in Fractures, Small Fires, Postage Due, When I Was Straight, Catechism: A Love Story, SIX, Same-Sexy… Read more »
Emily Paige Wilson
What I’ll Tell My Great-Great-Granddaughters

Emily Paige Wilson - What I’ll Tell My Great-Great-Granddaughters

Poetry
Emily Paige Wilson’s debut chapbook I’ll Build Us a Home was published by Finishing Line Press (2018). She has received nominations for Best New Poets, Best of the Net, and the Pushcart Prize. Her… Read more »

Dear Gravity [Shall I Call You Shiva?]

Rebecca Aronson

Shall I call you Shiva? I know your pleasures:
taking down an overpass, toppling a crane. You
downed a space shuttle for its presumption. Flick
at people as we scuttle. You pulled me down once
to test my brittle frame. You win. My bones are balsa
and they bend only a little. It was just a prank; your attention
really elsewhere. Class bully, you are picking on another nerd
whose limbs stiffen like drying plaster. The rest
is air, except his solid head so full he can hardly hold it.
Things fall because space curves. Space curves because of matter.
The body’s matter displaces space a little with every step,
and so he falls, my father, his mind on the curve
of pavement, carefully treading on matter’s ghostly shadow.
Read more »