Summer 2018 Issue

Excerpt

from The Frontier

What ends in this country
simply does not. Onward
and onward and so forth.
Thus declared. In the half-light
of a mosquito’s bite, we keep
moving. Each mountain
rinses the sky of its crimes.
My father empties his pockets,
stunned and stalled in Atlantic
wreck. No business, no job, no two-
for-one peaches. The frontier
consoles me: this land of
opportunity, leaden, stolen,
all for a lump sum. I slump
over the proving ground.
Credentials gilded, framed
in hovering horseflies.
Each day, I translate
documents and bills and
government forms for my family.
My grandfather sings his songbird
to sleep. Jersey unsmogs itself
in a dream. What creeps
into these stars: a sun spool,
a lullaby for unsung shores,
my grandfather’s brown mole
on his right cheek, expansive
as prairie. Plumped as a California
raisin in tears. Proof.
A signature here and there,
in flourishing perpetuity.

-Jane Wong



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Contributors

Sam Killmeyer
Erica Bernheim
Adam Day
Derek Otsuji
Dana Curtis
Darren Morris
Ricardo Pau-Llosa
Jane Wong
Montreux Rotholtz (Interview with Jane Wong)
Laura Matwichuk
José Enrique Medina
John Gallaher
Jan LaPerle