Issue 22 | Summer 2019 Early Morning Rain By Jeff Oaks | Poetry Even though my neighbor's car was stolen, and she has cancer or has had cancer, and now the street has an absence in it, like a missing tooth.
Issue 22 | Summer 2019 The North By Jeff Oaks | Poetry You blink back so many red veils // so often they stop being blood. The fur / of your parka becomes indistinguishable / from your own hair.
