Poetry 3 Spring 2021

I SING THE BODY ACOUSTIC

by Robert Beveridge

the hall smells of tangerines,
a damned sight better than
the expected sweat from a sold-
out crowd. This could be put
down to the general lifelessness
of the butts in seats (they’re
zombies, not bored). What caused
this mass migration no one is
quite sure, but top scientists
study patterns (and try to figure
out where they got the admission
money) and I have naught to do
but put my own butt in my own
seat, fit a cello between my legs,
and see how well they like Telemann.

Bio: Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Red Coyote Review, Deep South Magazine, and Aromatica Poetica, among others.

Ice Breakup

by Bill Diamond

When trauma struck, Lily became an icebound river

The freeze was quick and the ice was thick.

She lost all traits of water

No longer clear or bubbly

Rather a grim and sullen silence

Within an off-putting chill envelope

Sans movement, flow or progress

She was clouded, impenetrable, lifeless

As a personal Winter began

All energy and light fled

If the breath of a spirit remained

It lay deep and buried

When rebirth comes, it’s often not from within

Rather transformed by a sunny outside warmth

Then the cycle evolves

The frozen crypt thins and cracks

The ice breakup crashes and flails

As her sharp bergs spread damage and fright

Finally, Lily sheds the frost

And emerges again to life

Bio: Bill Diamond lives in Colorado where the Rocky Mountains are both an inspiration and a distraction. He writes to try and figure it all out.