We are surprisingly lightweight, reusable, some made from sand. We would crumble to the touch without the coating so fragile so silent thousands of us, designed to protect from the void and the heat. Hours spent holding us in place as the cement cured: the risk of problems outweighed by aspirations –the fatigue of need. … Continue reading The Crash of the Shuttle Columbia* as Recorded by a Thermal Tile
by Maggie Rosen →
Ignore the rumors that Washington is weak, vulnerable. Many defenses remain stalwart: Fort Reno, Fort Stevens, Centrifugal guns ready to fire at enemies from land or river, Men on bronze horses keep everlasting watch. Mcpherson, an apt hybrid: a warrior astride an old boy made from a melted cannon. Andrew Jackson, horse rearing, waves his … Continue reading Rules of Equestrian Statues
by Maggie Rosen →
Maggie Rosen lives in Silver Spring, Maryland. Most of her professional work has been as a teacher of English to speakers of other languages. Her poems have been published in Little Patuxent Review, Waccamaw, Beltway Poetry Quarterly, Barely South, and Conclave, among other publications. Her chapbook, The Deliberate Speed of Ghosts, was published in 2016 … Continue reading Maggie Rosen →
