HOW MUCH CAN WE TAKE?

by Lynne Kemen

after viewing “Continuous Form” by Nishimura Yuko (Japan) 2020—washi paper

The paper is impossibly twisted, pleated

like skirts used to be. How is it possible

that this is paper? Nishimura Yuko's washi

folding into itself, holding a shape

it shouldn't hold.

 

On the wall behind, faces

also impossibly shaped, bearing witness,

watching.

 

Tensile strength. The word makes me think

of tension, how it translates to my own body

squirming to get comfortable, no longer able

to hold erect posture. Two total knee replacements.

Back pain. Neck pain. I'm so tired.

 

Pretti is our conscience. One of the helpers

who always shows up, who cares about others,

who refuses to look away. His phone

documenting what shouldn't be happening,

what we need to see.

 

I used to protest the Vietnam war. Kent State

terrified me—that girl kneeling, her mouth open,

screaming over the body. Some photographs

are that raw, that perfectly horrific.

Once I see them, they're in my DNA somehow,

in my body.

 

I can't stand for long periods now.

And I know I cannot look away.

So many do. They don't think it affects them—

until it does.

 

The sculpture before us, still whole.

Those circular faces, still watching.

We know fabric tears.

We just don't know when.

Lynne Kemen is the author of Shoes for Lucy (SCE Press, 2023) and More Than a Handful (Woodland Arts Editions, 2020). Her work has appeared in One Art, The Ekphrastic Review, MacQueen's Quinterly, and elsewhere. She received a 2024 Pushcart Prize nomination and serves as Editor/Interviewer for The Blue Mountain Review. She is currently working on two full-length poetry volumes. Lynne lives in rural Delaware County, New York.

THE GENOCIDE CONUNDRUM

by tom bauer

All we have is what we agree
the rest is I don’t know.

Do you see that?
Yes I see.
Then we agree.
The rest is I don’t know.

All we have is what we agree
the rest is I don’t know.

See the words?
Yes we see.
Everybody sees.
See what they mean?

All we have is what we agree
the rest is I don’t know.

See the outcomes?
Yes you do.
You see it too.
You can’t unsee those things.

All we have is what we agree
the rest is I don’t know.

tom bauer lives in montreal with his sons and plays boardgames.

DO WE NOT BLEED?

by Nolan Dannels

Painting (1886) by John Everett Millais of Kate Dolan as Portia.

“Though justice be thy plea, consider this:

That in the course of justice none of us

Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy,

And that same prayer doth teach us all to render

The deeds of mercy …”

— Portia, IV, 1, from The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare 

 

The kids caught in the crossfire

never stood a chance—

they just stood there,

wrong place, wrong time,

and we didn’t do a thing,

just let them die

 

as we chose a side,

as if it were a color

in a world of

black and white

that we should have let be

blue and green

 

But who would we be

to dream of peace

when we don’t stand

in the way of the war—

the innocent plead,

we ignore,

so how can

they have hope anymore?

 

And who would we be

to feel a thing?

If you prick us,

do we not bleed?

If you hurt us,

do we not grieve?

And if you don’t listen to us,

do we still speak?

 

Air raids and bombs… guns and hate—

this is neither the beginning nor the end

And it will only get worse if we wait

We’ll see soon enough even if we are blind now,

but our hands will be slow on the draw,

too little, too late:

we only do good

when the bad has already died down

 

Where will the refugees go

when their camps are attacked

before they can even cry out?

Which way will the world turn

when the sun sets on the other side

than the one it does right now?

 

I wish I knew the answers,

and I wish I could say them loud and clear,

but I can only beg, vocal cords torn,

for a fair and just end to the conflict

But I can only see it getting worse

from day to day and year to year

 

Yet, who would I be

to say a thing?

If you spit in my eyes,

can I still see?

If you put me in chains,

can I be free?

And if you tear out my tongue,

can I still speak?

 

But who are we

to be in need?

If you chase us,

do we not flee?

If you prick us,

do we not bleed?

If you prick us,

do we not bleed?

 

If you prick us,

do we not bleed?

If you prick us,

do we not bleed?

​whether our tears are true

​if they can never leave

If you prick us,

do we not bleed?

If you prick us,

do we not bleed?

whether we’re white and blue

​or red, white, black, and green

 

Nolan Dannels is a Persian American poet/musician with a Master's in English Language and Literature from the University of Edinburgh. He is currently a Literature PhD candidate, specializing in modern and contemporary Anglophone poetry at the University of California, San Diego, where he served as the Editor in Chief of Alchemy, Journal of Translation. His poetry and music appear in Kissing Dynamite, Trouvaille Review, Wine Cellar Press, Wishbone Words, Snakeskin Poetry Webzine, and Hare's Paw Literary Journal.