A Child Again viewing the Dutch film The Vanishing I lean forward to meet the flame at centre frame engulfed in darkness. My eyes adjust. A red silken backdrop falls forward. The heroine’s elbows fan out against the casket that hems her in. My feet press the floor. Her trembling makes the spark waver then go out. Will she catch a whiff of chloroform beneath her quivering upper lip? Again she flicks her lighter, its flame held close enough to scorch the fabric of fear. Her low groan makes me shudder. The camera cuts to the fresh-turned ground she lies beneath. From moving upright to buried alive. I can’t breathe! My own elbows measure left, right. I’m twelve again, reading burial tales under thick covers by flickering flashlight. Her tremble risks setting silk on fire. Be still. Don’t waste oxygen. Wait. Margo Davis Margo’s poems have appeared in Light: A Journal of Photography & Poetry, Wisconsin Review, Midwest Quarterly, Slipstream, Agave Magazine, A Clean, Well-Lighted Place. Forthcoming poems are to appear in Misfit Magazine, Civilized Beasts, Vine Leaves Literary, Burgers and Barrooms Anthology, and Echoes Off a Canyon Wall, an ekphrastic photo / poetry exhibit.
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Holcomb
Tonight, after the men leave, this white farmhouse is like a poem about Quiet. Softly ticking clocks. Faucet dripping. Dripping. Photographs on the piano smiling at no one. Polished floors uncreaking. Telephone unringing. Purse gaping on the floor. Outside, fields stretch out below the moon. Animals shift in their stalls. Farmhouses in the country always seem to mind their own business, keep their mouths shut. In the morning — Sunday before church — two girls will walk up the staircase of this silent house, call Nancy? approach her bedroom, the door standing open inviting them in to see. Tricia Marcella Cimera This poem first appeared in 22-5. It was inspired by Truman Capote's In Cold Blood. Tricia Marcella Cimera is a Midwestern poet with a worldview. Look for her work in these diverse places (some forthcoming): Anti-Heroin Chic, Buddhist Poetry Review, The Ekphrastic Review, Failed Haiku, I Am Not A Silent Poet, Mad Swirl, Silver Birch Press, The Bees are Dead, Wild Plum and elsewhere. She has two micro collections, THE SEA AND A RIVER and BOXBOROUGH POEMS, on the Origami Poems Project website. Tricia believes there’s no place like her own backyard and has traveled the world (including Graceland). She lives with her husband and family of animals in Illinois / in a town called St. Charles / by a river named Fox and keeps a Poetry Box in her front yard. René Magritte: The Unexpected Answer (1933) Later you will wonder how I locked the bedroom door from the inside. “Open up!” you’ll yell. Try the knob, barge in without an answer. For the rest of my days, I’ll relish imagining that moment you find the room stripped, empty as your heart. Alarie Tennille This poem was written as part of the surprise ekphrastic challenge for Magritte. Alarie’s latest poetry book, Waking on the Moon, contains many poems first published by The Ekphrastic Review. Please visit her at alariepoet.com. The Pianist and The Poet
Seymour Bernstein barely blinks when he talks, his eyes as at ease in the light of the world as his hands, poised over the keys when he asks us to mark how the note hovers in air after it’s struck so that even its final hush finds accord. He touches his student’s arm with a gentle continuum, in perfect concordance, urges her heart closer to Bach, reminds her to listen, to breathe, like my poet friend Amy says in a poem: “Listen. The high kiss of finch grabs a thread of air.” This is a transport, rapid as half of a breath “as if ears were satellite dishes on stems”. She teaches too and waits as long as it takes for her students to hear. She knows what that means, how it helps to blend the word and the sound of the word so the ear and the brain work together. “These tiniest bones hear us think.” Yes, listen to the hush that carries the sound. Judith Bowles Editor's note: This poem was inspired by Ethan Hawke’s documentary about Seymour Bernstein, Seymour—An Introduction, and Amy Young’s poem “Ossicles.” Scroll below to read Amy's poem. The Ekphrastic Review was absolutely delighted to hear from Amy Young, who generously agreed to share her poem, too, as well as from Seymour Bernstein, the subject of Judith Bowles' poem and the documentary movie by Ethan Hawke. Judith Bowles lives, writes and gardens in Washington D. C. She has an MFA from the American University in short fiction and taught creative writing there. Two of her stories were selected for the Pen Syndicated Fiction Project. Her poems have been published in The Delmarva Review, The Innisfree Journal of Poetry, and Gargoyle. Her book, The Gatherer, was published by WordTech Communication’s Turning Point in November of 2014. The Replicants in Question
"Every angel is terrifying." —Rilke, The Duino Elegies What’s this? Deckard asks: not who. Clever bit of exposition, to reveal the quarry to us and Deck together, let him query Bryant for us, our proxy, blue membrane of smoke haze rising between them. Nexxus 6. Each description straight from dimestore pulp, a reduction to function, the body’s brute uses. The heads, factory fresh, spin as in a shop window. Skull-capped, mute and gazeless, a sameness. No snake tattoo, no shock of white hair, no hate love fear anger envy yet. Transformation, the interpreted world: time cut off as failsafe. And if the machine doesn’t work? Flight, light: Deckard narrows his eyes. Spinners flare out their flame-red haloes. The score recalls its daring first notes -- a kestrel keening— then falls. Jan Bottiglieri This poem is from the author's in-process manuscript addressing the 1982 Ridley Scott film Blade Runner. Envisioned as a sort of "poetry commentary track" for the film's Final Cut version, the poems address the movie's themes of memory, the body, and what it means to be human by weaving screen action and imagery with personal memory, interpretation, and a splash of Rilke. Jan Bottiglieri lives and writes in Schaumburg, IL. She is a managing editor for the poetry annual RHINO and received her MFA in Poetry from Pacific University. Jan’s poems have appeared in a variety of journals and anthologies including Harpur Palate, Court Green, Bellevue Literary Review, and Rattle. She is the author of the chapbook Where Gravity Pools the Sugar and the full-length poetry collection Alloy. Visitjanbottiglieri.com. Running Girl
(for shosana) after it all becomes too much, the girl begins to run. she is running away from her past life, running away from her future life, her death. she is running away from those that ruined her brothers, her fathers and mothers, running away from the those that would ruin her. she is running away from everything she knows to be good and right and true, toward the great unknown with no one beside her. she is running away and she does not know where she is going – she does not want to know – it does not matter. they begin to follow, give chase, but then they stop, smile, laugh, smile all the more. they do not need to shoot her, do not need to do anything. they have done their job. the world will take care of her, they think, and they are right, of course. the girl is running away, and maybe she is even making good speed, making progress, but she is running toward nothing, and she has nothing, and she is nothing. they know this. they forget, however, the running girl is not just one thing. running girl can write. running girl can sing. Jordan Makant This poem was inspired by the film, Inglorious Bastards. Jordan Makant is a senior at Lenoir-Rhyne University in Hickory, NC. He is an Assistant Editor for Scott Owens' Wild Goose Poetry Review and a co-founder for the Hickory, NC based theatre arts charity, the Hickory Playground. Previous publications include Rat's Ass Review, The Main Street Rag, and Winston-Salem Writers' Poetry in Plain Sight project. Storm and Stone
Beneath the lightning's storm where nothing stirs, Your beauty, like Toledo's bridge, remains: Four centuries of night span now shares, Yet Greco's arch, like you, my heart sustains. As silver leaps from green 'cross Tagus' tide, You sweep me past all threatening chasms' cares And set me free to choose ways to your side, That I might rest where my true love prefers. There, stayed within the pillared ranks of men, Insensate stone and cloistering beauty's pride, I am but helpless till you choose, and then Our souls are matched, mere marble's mask denied. No stone, storm lit, in exile's fairest image shines As fair as bounds my heart, where my fair's heart opines. Nigel Stuart Nigel Stuart is a retired history professor with a secondary professional interest in renaissance Europe, artistic practice, and in film. Toledo is one of his favourite places, and it appears in the painting by El Greco, in the film Tristana, and in this poem. Attack of the 50 Ft. Woman Of course, she is grossly out of proportion. A woman only fifty feet tall would not be able to straddle a four-lane highway, hold a Desoto in one hand as though it were a burrito. And that car is twice the size of the others strewn before her. I mention this, because I do think that size matters — certainly in the instance of this beauty in her skimpy skirt and top made of bed linens. For a male growing up in the fifties and sixties, a redhead with breasts the size of weather balloons is pretty much the Goddess incarnate. I would gladly be one of her subjects; I even know which one. Of the five people between her well tanned legs, four run for their lives. But the one near her left calf dashes toward the center of that highway, headed for the spot where he can contemplate the abyss. And though he is tiny, less than the size of her thumb, he has gumption, a can-do spirit, and a stiff spine. He will rise to the occasion. The others may flee in terror, but he means to stand tall; he intends to fulfill. Roderick Bates Roderick Bates has published poems in The Dark Horse, Stillwater Review, Naugatuck River Review, Hobo Camp Review, and Rat’s Ass Review (which he now edits). He also writes prose, and won an award from the International Regional Magazines Association for an essay published in Vermont Life. He is a Vermonter and a Dartmouth graduate. The Last Confession of Sister Ruth
On top of this mountain, the air is too thin even for God. He can’t see me out of habit, slinking down the scrabbled path, my prayer lost in the drone and strafe of the high Himalayas. There’s a man waiting, warm blooded, where the wind is calm. Oh, sisters, how do you quench the fire, the lava that flows from between your thighs, the constant reminder of past and present, the vow of untouched future? I am a Bride of Christ, but this long distance relationship just isn’t working out. What did I think I would find here? My life’s purpose blowing out of the snowcaps? Maybe the devil found me instead. On those long, cold nights as the wind moaned desire into my ear, a demon appeared in the mirror, put ice in my veins and murder in my fingers. No one can stop me now. I’m going to the village to offer myself as a sacrifice, and if that man sends me back up the mountain, I’ll just come down again – flying – wearing my forbidden red lipstick as a beacon. Collin Kelley Collin Kelley is the author of the poetry collections Better To Travel, Slow To Burn, After the Poison and the American Library Association-honored Render. Sibling Rivalry Press has published his trilogy of novels, Conquering Venus, Remain In Light and Leaving Paris. His poetry, essays and interviews have appeared in journals, magazines and anthologies around the world. www.collinkelley.com Minority Report
Imagine an alternate future in which Tom Cruise is elected president. I’m not saying it could really happen, but imagine a future in which the state is one gigantic eyeball that never blinks. In this perversion of Emersonian Transcendentalism, the group mind is such that any deviation is treated with the utmost suspicion. Thus, anyone who uses thus in a poem will be summarily executed. I’m not saying it’s going to happen, but sooner or later, somebody somewhere is going to blow himself up. Elizabeth Knapp Elizabeth Knapp is the author of The Spite House (C&R Press, 2011), winner of the 2010 De Novo Poetry Prize. The recipient of the 2015 Literal Latté Poetry Award and the 2007 Discovered Voices Award from Iron Horse Literary Review, she has published poems in Best New Poets 2007, The Massachusetts Review, Mid-American Review, Spoon River Poetry Review, and many other journals. She holds an MFA from the Bennington Writing Seminars and a PhD from Western Michigan University and is currently Associate Professor of English at Hood College in Frederick, Maryland. |
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