You will only be heard
When the noise
Has died down
And the air so clear
You can hear
The soundless
Soundtrack of bats,
The cutting edge
In a swaying blade of grass,
The memoirs of elephants,
The beat of a moth’s wing
In a distant whirlwind,
The snap of a lizard’s tongue,
And the gossip of
Ants in the kitchen.
Manohar Shetty has published poems in journals around the world, including Shenandoah, Chelsea, New Letters, and Rattapallax.
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ARIELLE HEBERT
Home again at the water’s edge, /
palms dancing in salt breeze. /
I take a too-deep breath /
and the air prickles my lungs /
like an unfiltered cigarette. /
Only the tourists are swimming, /
coughing through the algal bloom, /
eyes bloodshot and skin burning.
DANIEL TOBIN
No kindred of an earth, it must stalk alone, / or scavenge what the visitants leave behind. // or bird’s eggs, rabbits, the odd neighborhood / cat wandered over from some nearby home. / Its tail affects the lilt of a semaphore; its pelt // a finish of rust in sunlight.
LAUREN DELAPENHA
For example, the last time I asked God / to kill me I was among the lemons, remembering // the preacher saying, God is a God who is able / to hunger. I wonder, // aren’t we all here for that fast / communion of a stranger reaching // for the same hydroponic melon?
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