Issue 139

Winter & Spring 2011

Poetry Edison Jennings Poetry Edison Jennings

Complexion

He’s festered with hives and celibate,

a sorry-ass anchorite holed up in a condo,

peevishly enduring the failings of his flesh.

At first, he blamed the pills he popped

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Poetry Edison Jennings Poetry Edison Jennings

Half-Life

Every day invisible bits of him break free,

fly off, and leave him simpler, more leaden

than the day before while he strains to make

the daily round, and flesh that used to hum

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Poetry Edison Jennings Poetry Edison Jennings

A Body in Motion

In this compact piedmont coal town, a hospital,

a walk-in wedding chapel, and a funeral home

are all within a half-mile radius of steep-grade roads,

and you can get on a bicycle outside the maternity ward,

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Poetry Edison Jennings Poetry Edison Jennings

Old Bitch and Bone

He envied his dog her bone, the way she shook

and damn near shat while she sat, expectant,

waiting to clamp and tooth it in the weeds,

the way she cracked the shaft and fanged the fat,

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