Issue 1


– For Adrienne

On the bus to the writing conference
she touches the smashed glass
with her forefinger—the fifty-year-old
housewife ex-lawyer: writing for herself,
now. A wound radiates her
window, breaks her
into pieces.
Sunlight runs inside the fracturing
as she explores
what’s been ruined
—so carefully it is as if,
touching a Man o’ War,
she expects to be cut
by sharp water,
then withdraws her hand
shocked at how soft it is.

If the world
is separation, if it seems
the only touch we’ve known
is damage, then I have wanted
to be shattered.

Read me Rapunzel,
the wife coveting rampion
from the witch’s garden; read me
Beauty and the Beast again—
30 days it takes
to trust her with the ugliness.

And, like this, ashamed
somewhere in the template
where things barely cohere—
though it lets light through
—I have set down the spiked mace
taken off the leather under the interlocking
ring mail, down to the welts
struck armour leaves on the skin.
I want you to touch me. I am so tired
and have laid myself down on the ground for you.

David McLoghlin‘s recent work has been published or is forthcoming in Barrow StreetNew Madrid,Cimarron ReviewPoetry InternationalMap Literary  Poetry Ireland Review and Birmingham Poetry Review. A poem was recently broadcast on WNYC’s Radiolab. His first collection is Waiting for Saint Brendan and Other Poems (Salmon Poetry, 2012). Sign Tongue, his translations of work by Chilean poet Enrique Winter, won the 2014 Goodmorning Menagerie Chapbook-in-Translation prize. His second collection, Santiago Sketches, is forthcoming from Salmon Poetry.