Manuals for TrainsRebecca Morgan Frank
I was born with a train in my ear, its pitched
blast invading my body like a tuba-parasite.
Each conductor has a signature move.
I fell in love with the throating of the 3 am–
his consecutive wails warp around my dreams
and choke them into new directions.
Leaving town, I can’t sleep, wait
for the schedule, long for the surprise
of delay, a new man at the helm making
his mark on my landscape without ever
leaving a footprint. Not once seeing
my face in sleep even though I conjure
each him, how he feels in the power of speed
breaking the black quiet with fierce bursts of air.
I am an echo chamber for passengers
headed somewhere else.
They never stop for me, never open
their doors, just power
through the crossroads with rumbling
emphasis to their songs.
Cycles of Rejection: An Elegy for My Four Parents
Alex M. Frankel
City as Mistress
The Mermaid Behind the Glass
John F. Buckley and Martin Ott
Manuals for Trains
Rebecca Morgan Frank
Signs of a Struggle
Kenneth E. Harrison, Jr.
F. Daniel Rzicznek
MPG of Wild Boar
For Nina, Riding Beside in the Buick
Dillon J. Welch
Instructions for Failure
Recovery and Rehabilitation
No More Nickernackin'
Specifics of Hell
Kayla Rae Whitaker