Issue 163

Winter & Spring 2023

Image from Ironing Pillowcases

Poetry Michael Bazzett Poetry Michael Bazzett

Out in the Fields

I was out in the fields when I saw them,

their skin a ghostly white underscored with gray,

their hair too long and swept across their faces.

They looked as if they’d lived in caves for years.

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Poetry Michael Bazzett Poetry Michael Bazzett

It Became a Time

It became a time when song no longer soared

but climbed, hand over hand up a taut rope.

One cracked voice was all it took. Cathedrals

bombed and gone, carcasses opened to the sun,

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