That Ghostly Voyage Beyond
For you, I would relinquish
My precious solitary
signified being and
embrace a gaseous dizzying
Consciousness of nebulae
Altering star-ways on a journey
To eventually settle a planet
So blue all the way through
To call home, and there I would
drift among the berries
And the birds and stars with you
And experiment with all the forms
Of conjoining dewdrops
Until one day when
Our bodies have fallen
into mixed memories leaving
Nothing left that might signify a me
Or a you in this endlessly distributed
Would I spin us
From lilac stems and
Sweet honeys, remoulding
A you with touch and soft attentions and
A me made from your light recognitions
To lie in a garden of we and look at
The constellations we have midwifed
In our travels
Ben Berman Ghan is a Jewish Settler, writer, editor, and scholar based in Tkaronto/Toronto, site of Treaty 13 and Williams Treaty territory, His non-fiction has been published in the likes of Empty Mirror Books, Augur Magazine, and Strange Horizons, and his fiction has appeared The Temz Review and The Sweet Tree Review, and his poetry in The UC Review and The Trinity Review. His novel What We See in the Smoke was published in 2019 by Crowsnest Books. His novella “Visitation Seeds” is forthcoming with 845 Press. You can find him @inkstainedwreck or inkstainedwreck.ca
She calls you on
the first of every
Her voice changes,
into the mouthpiece.
After six months
she sounds weak.
as if she’s apologising
Sarah Little is a poet who scribbles when she remembers and gets tetchy when she goes too long without writing. Her work has appeared in L’Éphémère Review, Alien Pub, and Milk + Beans, among others. Her first poetry micro-chapbook, Snapshots was published with Broken Sleep Books in July 2019.
How bold I was, when I was seven
I touch my left earlobe to bring myself luck,
as I listen to the words of colonialists. Yet I
in some ways am a colonialist too. Full of brimstone
and the belief I belong; existence that blood / belies.
I shake my left leg to field preoccupation,
as I think back to my blood’s migration. My parents,
their parents, their flight bringing with them
another culture, foreign.
Stop stroking your ears, shaking your legs, they’d say.
Place hands to your lips, steepled and silent.
Now bow low and focus, why, because
only whores shake coin from their thighs.
Ellen Chang-Richardson (she/her) is a poet, writer and editor of Taiwanese and Cambodian-Chinese descent. Winner of the 2020 POWER OF THE POETS Contest and the 2019 Vallum Award for Poetry, her writing has appeared in The Town Crier, Anti-Heroin Chic, long con magazine and more. Her debut chapbook Unlucky Fours is published by Anstruther Press (2020) and her second Assimilation Tactics is forthcoming this fall. Find out more at www.ehjchang.com.