PoetryIssue 18 | June 2013


by Athena Kildegaard

In the park, someone’s playing a Hammond
under a white canopy, thirds and fourths
in no hurry to return home. The blues
don’t take you home ‘til you’re good and ready.

In ‘98 a tornado clawhammered the boxelder, the elm
we once climbed on a dare. I was long gone
in ‘98. My whole family had gone then
to other states. We missed the catastrophe.

The guy next door cranks on his lawnmower.
I remember the blazing shade, the girth,
the brown bat we chased out the kitchen door.
It clung to the maple all afternoon, black eyes open.

These blues aren’t my blues but I sing along,
watch the neighbor pace up and down, tighten
the arc nearer, nearer his trees. From this
distance all disasters are beautiful.

About the author

Athena Kildegaard has lived in Sydney, Australia, Guanajuato, Mexico, Roskilde, Denmark, and several cities in the U.S.  She is the author of Rare Momentum, Bodies of Light, and Cloves & Honey.

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