PoetryIssue 05 | June 2009


by Carly Wray

The pilot boats that
blinker the bay
await employ
greater ships to usher home
to sleep in slips and you
slide in beside me, to
chart the swells.

So standing stern we number
siren panes like
lighthouse lanterns, making
bright the wakeful yards between us
and the ferries
now fareless
for which we once
spared sums untold.

Now darken this flag, these
imposter squares and in signal
bend red light
over white
on our bows that want to break
in deeper seas: in here
you say, the narrow mouth may
swallow us whole.

About the author

A native Texan, Carly Wray has slept at a bus station in Tralee, a monastery in Venice, and many a Gulf Coast rest stop before settling in Brooklyn. She has an MFA from the University of Southern 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