and when the dust had settled
when the chimes of autumn
were laid to rest
in its concrete sailboat
i rid myself of brittle & barrier
of skeleton man who runs
w/o heart
gone
like its had-been flesh
i slowly position my head
on a pillow
in a dark room
head heavy as an anchor
that was spared into an ocean
by a God
who set apart
sleep as redemption
for a sinner
About the author
Tonya Ingram is a New York University alumna, a Cincinnati native, a Bronx-bred introvert, and a soon-to-be Los Angeles flower-child. Her work has traveled…
Read the full bioIssue 18 · June 2013
Table of contents
- From the editors
- Poetry
- Postcard Prose
- Travel Notes
More from The Journal
- Poetry
I have fallen in love with winter, /
with the day that ends at 3:45 in the afternoon. //
with the man striding along the path grasping /
a pink plastic bag that glows incandescent /
although it only contains dish soap /
and the cat food he carries home after work …
- Poetry
...you wonder again about the soul, /
Where it hides, where it ventures. /
There's always one you have to bring to oblivion...
- Poetry
I wanted to be gray-faced /
and hated by the Yankees /
in the suburbs past Carleton.
- Poetry
Once he’d made the long, impetuous trip, /
once we were there, evening air billowing my skirt /
over the Pacific, surf sweeping like brushes over drums, /
I knew we’d marry.
- Poetry
By Kris Spencer
I lived by a river with tides unresolved /
Under the house a sewer under a wooden board it ran /
Sometimes a tapping sometimes a hum in the night like a motor
- Poetry
By Christopher Chambers
and I dream of a young woman from Prague /
standing beside a red motorcycle as if so much /
depended upon it...
Read more Poetry or Postcard Prose
