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      December 5, 2018TanglesBarbara Campbell

      The day I came home
      to find my husband
      waiting on the porch
      for his ride an hour
      and a half early
      and on the wrong day,
      I knew then I had
      to take on the ivy
      spread over most
      of the yard.
      Here’s what I love
      about ivy.
      It’s relentless,
      doesn’t forget
      or remember,
      creeps, burrows
      under soil,
      through leaves
      and weeds,
      starts south, turns
      north leaving little
      trace of its path until
      you grip its wily
      tangled trailhead
      and yank—oh
      the glorious rip
      that strips its long,
      ropey vine.
      No grief,
      no remorse,
      no tug of heart.

      from #61 - Fall 2018

      Barbara Campbell

      “I have been writing poetry for years as it makes me make some sense out of our increasingly crazy world. I especially like submitting to Rattle because the rejection letters make you think that Tim Green really likes your stuff and that due to circumstances out of his control, he can’t, this time, accept your poems. I even wrote a poem about this but can’t hazard a final rejection.”