Alina Stefanescu was born in Romania and raised in Tuscaloosa, Alabama where she resides with her partner and three small native species. Her homeland is a speculative fiction. Alina has visited Mumbai/Bombay, everywhere the Euro-rail touches, and as many American truck stops as needed to build her shot glass collection. She will go anywhere if offered a ticket. Read her forthcoming work in PoemMemoirStory, Reservoir, Rivet, Sandy River Review, and The Zodiac Review, among others. Her poetry chapbook, Objects in Vases, will be published by Anchor & Plume in March 2016. More online on her website.
More from The Journal
- Postcard Prose
By Kelly Hill
Trying to wrap my mind around living on a tropical island for thirteen years and never once seeing the ocean, I stumbled through my Indonesian vocabulary to say, It’s good. It’s big.
- Travel Notes
By Sandra Larson
A dinosaur dangles over my grandson at the Field Museum near a pink thumb that pops into the prom picture of my granddaughter dressed in strapless red leaving her house in Medina …
- Travel Notes
By Megan Hallinan
The bill in question is actually a 2,000 West African franc note, and it’s the equivalent of about four U.S. dollars. A helpful sum, really, but as I clutch the weathered crinkle in my sweaty palm, its value feels as dirty as the grime that is undoubtedly being transferred to my fingers.
to Egg and Berry brewery, to the pack / of Czechy words I made but didn’t work / in this pink town. I’d readily go back / to your best spots, the unfired gun, that perk //
By Jason Warren
And if the neap tides of my beauty / sadden him, I cannot help it: / I hang high, the waxy night light …
By Anastasia Vassos
Three thousand ancestors ask how I straddle / the sea, a foot on either shore. //