PoetryIssue 13 | September 2011


by Suzanne Marie Hopcroft

Autumn and my tin can was enough, stray
pebbles from the drive rattling as I rolled
it all ridges and grooves between my knees in
the dog-eared porch-light, the metal growing
cold because we all were.  The dragonflies and
Queen Anne’s lace, all the odd creatures with
misleading names were dropping dead so we
could rise up shivering, feel our own blood.  I
wanted to call them on the other side, could just
see an insect Gargantua with his ear pressed to
the can, extolling the million virtues of an after-
life in which everything had shrunken.  Good for
, I thought; he deserves this.  The sky would
eviscerate the sun, every night a little sooner.

About the author

Suzanne Marie Hopcroft wants very badly to get back to Paris someday soon. She is a PhD student in Comparative Literature at Yale University and writes poetry and fiction from New York City. Her work has appeared in elimae, Everyday Genius, Gargoyle, kill author, and PANK.

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