ABOUT

CONTENTS

EDITORIAL

ARCHIVE

LAGNIAPPE

MAST

SUBMISSIONS

Two Poems
by Sarah Goldstein


Untitled (rider)

I won’t wake, I gave up. Keen, calling for me. Like I harden: in labor, mine
in metal. A jumper, a good one, chestnut, soft mouth. Jogtrot, an oath under
the table. Obdurate, gone, spreading out. Offcuts in time, overdrawn
at the headboard. See me go to my left? Never marry now, ferry on like
a cats kill, catapult, cap teeth. She’ll be ruined by that rider, that chestnut or
that bay. Sawing on her, pressing the bit. Take me off. Swallow the ring.

Untitled (sovereign)

The prince in the thicket, around here in eyelet, dug in like a rabbit. Wine-taster,
groaner. Flush it around the oaktree–his ankles, beating the bramble. Rat on
the mantle in red wax. Holding the candle, cleaning its wick. Watch him cradle
the mouthpiece, paws on the sill like a sailor. Robbers under the window or doves
on a line. Casks shine in the sashes in the lee of the glass. Marksman marry
her perfect limb.