Christopher Moran

Bastet in the Bathhouse

A flash of copper

through the curtain of steam,

carved toes tasting the same

water that masks her in the mirror

beneath the surface.  Mercury

minnows bubble and pause

beside the jets.  She moves

like rivers basking in the desert.

Silhouettes of dolls of girls washing

flick powdered lapis from their skin.

Her words are sandalwood winds;

she blows their bodies about

with her fingertips.  She is sleeping

with her eyes against the glass

of a new now. She cannot make a man

from pieces in the river, but she can

break one and hold him

in her hands like lotus petals.

Christopher Moran was born in Soldotna, Alaska.  His fascination with mythology and folklore drives his work.  He has a degree in English from the University of Alaska Fairbanks and is currently enrolled in

their MFA poetry program.

Caitlin Scarano

Between Graves

We walk between these graves

 like we are trying not to wake the family baby.

We are alone. You stand mesmerized

 before a headstone so old you cannot make out the signs.

I turn away from you. Read the names of strangers

 to forget them.

The weather is inbetween; I wear a sweater, a scarf, a peacoat.

 You wear a maroon t-shirt, thinning over wide shoulders.

I do not see you shiver

 as I claw at the scarf to loosen the too-tight hold I’d given it.

I talk on and on, not wanting

 that silent space to accentuate your presence and mine.

Eyes on the ground you say she is someone to confide in.

 I say yes, everyone needs that and squint at all that soft Ohio distance.

Caitlin Scarano grew up in southern Virginia but now lives in Fairbanks, Alaska. She is currently a first-year poet in the University of Alaska Fairbanks MFA program.