PoetryIssue 05 | June 2009


by Audri Sousa

je suis un chien for you, andalusia
whose air carries
apple /  leather /  tobacco
whose children lisp quiet prayers
in teahouses
& cut with scissors fanta cans
that become ashtrays for tourists

whose geography i swallowed
several lives ago
whose corazón beats out
of tram doors
after the reluctant fleeing of suns
from this empire

long gone from the barrios
that fold accordion pockets
eastly and westly
through cordoba
from blurs of caliphate green
tiled living houses
are my sisters

whose movement i must
with pilfered motel pen,
nine euro,
tea that carries
apple /  leather /  tobacco
onto a taxicab seat
at the side of maimonides

About the author

Audri Sousa was born with wanderlust. Her work has previously appeared or is forthcoming in Abjective, Breadcrumb ScabsTransfer Magazine, and Word Riot. She has set foot on three continents and her favourite places in which to get irreversibly lost include Andalusia, Greece and Turkey. She currently lives in California.

Read our current issue:


Two poems by Anne Babson
Vignette, Townhouse, 9 a.m. by Troy Cunio
Night Becomes Day Over the West by Megan Foley
Yukon River Aurora by D. B. Goman
Two Poems by David Havird
Cretan Love Letter by Emily Linstrom
Holland by Rick Mullin
Fear in Kenya by Kristina Pfleegor
The Lounge Lizard by Ed Shacklee
Two Poems by Sarah J. Sloat
Night Flight by Vicki Stannard
Koinonia Farms by Alina Stefanescu
Thessaloniki, Four a.m. by Anastasia Vassos
Imaginary Oceans by Jason Warren
Two Poems by F. J. Williams

Postcard prose

It’s Salty by Kelly Hill

Travel notes

Anchorage in the Great Land by Karen Benning
The Value of Small Money by Megan Hallinan
Screensaver by Sandra Larson
Thirty Cents by Tommy McAree
Gokarna by Kate McCahill
Going Places by Rachel Miller-Howard
Susanville CA: Notes From The Road by Susan Volchok