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
- Visual Poetry
- Visual Poetry
By Zachary Gambrill
black ink on paper
- Visual Poetry
By Zachary Gambrill
comic book cover
- Postcard Prose
By Lauren Barbato
I’d been thinking about leaving. I’d been thinking how there’s something about out here. Before long it’s a new January and you’re hungover with a heartache for a man you won’t see for several years until he pops up on that very popular, critically-acclaimed sitcom with that actress you learned to like, then hate, then feign indifference abou
- Poetry
The leak in your breathing/
tube makes a cartoon squeak./
It takes two nurses, silent/
as nuns, to place you/
in my arms...
- Poetry
If I have already/
gone insane/
but I want to get/
crazier yet,/
what’s my move?/
Go outsane?
See more Poetry, Visual Poetry, or Postcard Prose
