Threshold.

By Joanna Valente

Something fell on Lincoln Ave / Mammoth teeth

in rock salt in lime in a whale’s belly / a wooden

chair breaks under weight /


Paid $25 for avocado n’ fish n’ yucca n’ lemons

to feed humans saying / don’t let me be lonely 1

when the tonality shifts / it is easier to be

evasive than to tell any truth /


& lack of truth can be blamed on brokeness

2 yrs ago was 2 yrs ago / not unremembered

in teeth / in tonal changes / over


landmasses, sea-stuff / Still I carry his name

in my cervix / at night peeling my eyes like onion

skinning off lost papers / they disappear /


hope they disappear / Cannot dream anything

in color except scribbled words (who’s biography?) /

red ink that writes don’t let me be

1.Claudia Rankine, Don’t Let Me Be Lonely, An American Lyric










Joanna C. Valente is a MFA candidate in Poetry Writing at Sarah Lawrence College, where she is also a part-time mermaid. She founded and currently edits Yes, Poetry. She can be found at http://joannavalente.com.

Supernumerary by Stephanie Valente.

she is petulant; partly,
of feathers, even after
the mourners come and go

stand on a man’s legs,
and bathe in the water
this is what they told her
in the backyard that day, full
of professional mourners
that come and go
they are thick, floating
on webbed legs,

and still, there is writhing
bergamot, rosemary, rose hips
set to lips, white-washed
to kiss her through netting,
clapped hands
but, to catch a bird,
that is the real feat.

Stephanie Valente lives in New York. One day, she would like to be a silent film star. Her work has appeared in or is forthcoming from dotdotdash, Nano Fiction, LIES/ISLE, and Uphook Press. She can be found at http://kitschy.tumblr.com