in good conscience he was unable to recommend a panama canal of any kind
Outside a woman reverses
a green tractor up into the hillside
where a small crowd of people
gather to watch the Italian bees ― more
docile than other bees ― fly
into their new hive & I am on
my belly in the attic with you
in Argentina translating
poems from Spanish. The death
that came to get her
was like an enormous gray pillow,
I suggest. No, you say
it was more like a soaked mattress,
the kind with springs.
It’s the wrong conversation.
There was a woman
so afraid of the dark, she slept inside
her cello case. The night was
less frightening because she could
touch all of it.
Metaphor is not the point
of violence. Violence is.
Emily Vizzo is a writer, editor and educator whose work has appeared in FIELD, Blackbird, jubilat, North American Review, The Los Angeles Times, Next American City, and other publications. Her essay, “A Personal History of Dirt,” was honored as a notable essay in Best American Essays 2013, and she was selected for inclusion within Best New Poets 2015. Her chapbook, GIANTESS, is forthcoming in 2018 from YesYes Books.
Ayasha Guerin is an artist and writer based in Brooklyn. She is a Ph.D. candidate in New York University’s American Studies program and currently a research fellow at the Center for the Humanities. Her art and writing concern themes of the urban/natural, public and private space, ecology, community, and security. She shoots her analog photography on a Canon A-1 that has passed through three generations of her family.