Contributions by Steve Bellin-Oka

Issue 19 | Summer 2017

Ghazal to John, From Exile

By | Poetry

Spring snow never hurts us, but still it’s a dangerous thing. It stays our lives and shrinks our days, like any dangerous thing. I loved you because you had my father’s name and shale- blue eyes flecked with green: serpentine, dangerous things. Early April, North Atlantic wind: half-thawed mud and ice. For a diver, to …