by Catherine Stansfield
I've learned that every day is the day you died each moment, the phone call, empty on my side as a parking lot at dusk, when the sun sets and the masses clear and the deer have already crossed the sea of asphalt in search of green instead of three staring eyes—headlights and moon, each helpless in their distance all of these hours, the same second stretched endlessly over and under itself until it is back in my line of sight, slithering between my lashes and into my dreams where I manage to hold you again before you crumble back into the ashes you are now moving on is myth to me, a fable with no meaning, a statistical impossibility, a number no one will ever count to, a singularity that refuses to spiral to conclusion, going on and on snake, tail, and tongue then tears.
Untitled Collage 1
by Ana Jovanovska
Catherine Stansfield’s short prose and poems are featured or are forthcoming in Apricity Magazine, El Portal, The MacGuffin, Mount Hope Magazine, Plainsongs, Presence: A Journal of Catholic Poetry, Slippery Elm and elsewhere. She currently works as a publishing assistant and graphic designer. Learn more at: catherinestansfield.com
Ana Jovanovska was born in 1991 in Macedonia. She holds an MFA in the Graphic Art Field. Her practice is rooted in deep observation and reaction to the current times and spaces. Ana has had 12 independent, and more than 250 group exhibitions around the world.Instagram: www.instagram.com/anajovanovska/