Contributions by Wayne Johns

Issue 19 | Summer 2017


By | Poetry

Hooded in coats, we’re coming in from a breathtaking blizzard. One of us is looking down. The other looks back into the whiteout. No way to tell from this shot since all skin is covered. Behind us, the figure—it should stand for something— that we formed. We’ve been framed between the threshold and the storm. …