Note from the Editors

 

   SEEING RED 

    ENDU(RED) ADMI(RED)
    DESI(RED) WONDE(RED)
    RUMO(RED) ADO(RED)
    ENAMO(RED) INSPI(RED)
    DISCOVE(RED) SAC(RED)
    HUNGE(RED) WONDE(RED)
    EXPLO(RED) FEATU(RED)
    AUTHO(RED) SEA(RED)
    DA(RED) UNCENSO(RED)
    SOA(RED) ADVENTU(RED)

 

 

    


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Draw an Arc, I'll Make You a Circle


Draw an L, I'll make a square.
Completing lines

is a specialty of mine.
You like women who resemble

young willows? I'll stop eating,
take up ballet.

You say smile, I smile
with a vengeance,

quiet, I move like a nun.
Rosewater, I bathe in it,

lotion, I shave with it,
babies, I'll give you a few.

I am the present you ordered.
The future's in

your Germanic hands.
So squeeze, go ahead. 

When I'm empty
as a rolled-up toothpaste tube,

will you complain
and roll onto your back;

will you dream of a dark,
loud, heavy-handed woman

tossing her head
like an untrained thoroughbred?


   

Debra Kaufman, a poet and playwright, is the author of the poetry collections Family of Strangers (Nightshade), Still Life Burning (Poetry Society of South Carolina), A Certain Light (Emrys), Moon Mirror Whiskey Wind (Pudding House), and most recently, The Next Moment (Jacar).  Her poems have been widely published, and her plays have been performed throughout North Carolina and elsewhere.  A member of the Black Socks poets, she lives with her family and cats in Mebane, North Carolina.



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