Poetry: Katharine Rauk


I wish I could blame the solar storm

that blitzed the earth with electromagnetic rays,

rerouted several commercial airlines,

and caused all the geese to mistakenly fly west,

the secret compass needles in their heads

playing spin the bottle over a rowdy Pacific.

Satellite communications were disrupted,

electric eels in Peru forgot how to sing,

and for a few seconds all the iPhones in the world

flickered to black, during which time

everyone raised their eyes and noticed

moths shivering like tiny chandeliers.

The truth is your glance shortcuts every traffic light

in my heart and now no one’s in charge,

I’m accelerating down the expressway

of a tuba’s gold dream. With one outburst

from your hair, I sputter like a firefly drowning

in champagne. Just imagining the charged particles

of your lips colliding with mine

and I’m watching the northern lights,

those bodies flaring across midwinter sheets of sky.

All rights reserved to Katharine Rauk.


Poetry: Cole Sarar

Lindsey Hutchinson