The Mermaid Behind the GlassJohn F. Buckley and Martin Ott
The fall of Atlantis is all our faults.
We are glued to flood news, spontaneous
gills, my own legs fused, mind swimming
behind a screen that pulses and broods.
No one remembers to feed the fish.
We let them comingle with scruffy tritons
with missing scales, neglecting our pets
as we inhale The Tuna Whisperer.
Lost surfers are occasionally caught
in nets made of plastic rings and bags,
and nothing stops The Sturgeon Surgeon
from attempting to save a life or two.
We are sluggish on coral couches, fins
rooted in pudgier flesh. Swimming only
to the fridge and back for fried krill puffs,
we blame our bulk on omega-3 fatty acids.
We all have a sense of drowning now,
high-rise apartments brushing the sea
bottom, the other world pale and brittle
as love. A mermaid's fate is to watch.
Cycles of Rejection: An Elegy for My Four Parents
Alex M. Frankel
City as Mistress
The Mermaid Behind the Glass
John F. Buckley and Martin Ott
Manuals for Trains
Rebecca Morgan Frank
Signs of a Struggle
Kenneth E. Harrison, Jr.
F. Daniel Rzicznek
MPG of Wild Boar
For Nina, Riding Beside in the Buick
Dillon J. Welch
Instructions for Failure
Recovery and Rehabilitation
No More Nickernackin'
Specifics of Hell
Kayla Rae Whitaker