Shopping Cart
    items

      ←

      February 4, 2015Two Small FishCeleste Lipkes

      I see you once
      a month,
       
      the calendar
      like a net I sink
       
      my hands into.
      I know how to let
       
      two small fish
      feed five thousand,
       
      how to kneel
      at the stained glass
       
      of a gill: our forks
      tangling, my lips
       
      at your throat.
      Alone, I multiply
       
      snatches
      of brightness
       
      until a night
      catches us
       
      not yet frightless,
      & the last thing
       
      I see is your eyes’
      golden lattice,
       
      blue breaking
      behind it.

      from #45 - Fall 2014

      Celeste Lipkes

      “Having grown up in an irreligious household, going to church was, in many ways, an act of defiance. When I was diagnosed with a chronic disease at the age of 15, my faith was a framework on which to hang meaning. Christianity backdrops much of my work; writing often feels like God kicking me under the table, nudging me toward what is important.”

      →