a literary journal published by the Black Earth Institute dedicated to re-forging the links between art and spirit, earth and society
is leaking, cracks so fine we cannot
in truth point here and here. Civic shame,
the hose, now PVC, held limply, starts
to refill from the four corners of the—
and even our own broad acres.
We turn on or off the news that isn’t,
roll daily newspapers into logs,
straighten our masks or wigs as we
go to the A & P, where TV shows
their faces, through the steel bars
of our garden’s fence,
apples bitten, half-bitten, strewn cores
at our door’s welcome sign,
already dangling on its last nail.
After teaching around the country for a couple of years, Steevie (as she is known) moved deep into the Western Catskills. She has had a few things published in Denver Quarterly, Southern Poetry Review, Stone Canoe and others, and a chapbook Sluice (2013). She escaped briefly, she says, for an MFA (2017).