ISSUE TWO: July, 2019

STILL LIVES

by GLEN ARMSTRONG

I do not draw fruit on large sheets of newsprint, personally, but I can see the appeal of candlelight and torn bread. The boat never arrives. The rate of ruin slows. 

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 Veronica deals antiques with a mysterious French friend.

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 Injustice gives me a rash. I’m ashamed of my ankles and inner thighs. I hear a smoker’s cough from my bedroom, where I sit at the window and dream of Dover’s treacherous cliffs.

GLEN ARMSTRONG holds an MFA in English from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst and teaches writing at Oakland University in Rochester, Michigan. He edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters and has two chapbooks forthcoming: Simpler Timesand Staring Down Miracles. His work has appeared in Poetry Northwest, Conduitand Cloudbank.