Issue > Poetry
William J. Cordeiro

William J. Cordeiro

Will Cordeiro is completing his PhD in English at Cornell University. His recent work appears or is forthcoming in Drunken Boat, Phoebe, South Dakota Review, and elsewhere. He lives in Tucson, Arizona.

Double Exposure

The field is cropped and cut, shorn flax in flux
where I have snapped it up. Its granules of spoors
cede the road to lucent signatures of shadow,
as evening thins to finger-bones. Come summer's end,
a trace of water-striders ride the surface of a nearby pond
the sunlight tropes, each image broken
by fish that prey on skimming flaws above, black water
overgrown with scum and bracken. Eye-motes like splinters
work in deeper, blend and stain, to take me
where ligatures of our far city's windtrap slants
                                                                           a tarnished silver
of faint, glinting rain. One dream-while of an afternoon
I chance to find your photograph. You stand alone,
your gaze uplifted, shaded by your hand,
which I have sifted, a waterlogged exposure gone
to daze: one face unfading in a darkroom pan.

Poetry

Kristene Brown

Kristene Brown
Mugshot of Grandma

Poetry

Jeff Burt

Jeff Burt
Boathouse

Poetry

Randi Ward

Randi Ward
Cattails