Tag: perceptions

City Chandelier

Poetry by Brian C. Billings

We were in Baltimore in March at night,
and when we walked along the harbor road,
my husband gushed about the play of light
that limned the buildings on our left. He slowed

us down and stepped into the glow, but I
went right instead to where a willow oak
was draped across a coffee shop, and high
upon the slender limbs were shards, bespoke

divisions from a sheet of mirrored glass
that swayed and rippled in the bitter breeze
and gave a millionfold a candle mass
in gold and green and silver flame. Oh, please,

don’t let my husband see. I knew he’d sneer
and break the hope inside the chandelier.


Brian C. Billings is a professor of drama and English at Texas A&M University-Texarkana. His work has appeared in such journals as Abandoned Mine, The Bluebird Word, Confrontation, Evening Street Review, Glacial Hills Review, and Poems and Plays. Publishers for his scripts include Eldridge Publishing and Heuer Publishing.

Familial Territory

Poetry by Jessica (Tyner) Mehta

You told me you looked like your father,
your brother like your mother,
but that’s not what I saw in the Mumbai tea house–
what everyone told you was wrong,
a lie from their eyes. Your mother
engulfs you both, in the cacao black
eyes and teeth crowded as a morning train.

Your father, he’s slipped into your innards,
entrenched in your turned down chin,
arms frozen across chest, the cold set
of your jaw, the distance of your aura.
Your father doesn’t scare me

because all I see is you. You in thirty years,
the you of our past, over-seasoning tradition
and fear with barricades.
I broke them down once,
I can do it again, they all doubt me

and therein lies my power. It’s in my tiny bones,
the reach of my hair, the fray
of my lashes. You know my stubbornness
is thicker than yours, my desire burns brighter
than all the fireworks of Diwali
and your father—the poor man

will see me one day
just as you do.


Jessica (Tyner) Mehta is a multi-award-winning Aniyunwiya, Two-Spirit, queer, interdisciplinary poet and artist. She is currently preparing for her Fulbright Senior Scholar award and her post-doctoral fellowship as the 2022 Forecast Change Lab fellow.

In the Department Store

Poetry by Juanita Rey

Don’t be put off
by brown eyes, brown face,
and the times my tongue stumbles,
flips an English phrase backward.

I am new here
and, though my colors won’t change,
words will one day come out of my mouth
without a detour via the islands.

I wish to buy this dress.
It matches my olive skin.
And I have a credit card in my purse,
ID to prove it belongs to me.

Yes, I expect assumptions, suspicions,
from those behind department store counters.
But I’m looking in a full-length mirror.
I have myself convinced.


Juanita Rey is a Dominican poet who has been in this country five years. Her work has been published in Pennsylvania English, Opiate Journal, Petrichor Machine and Porter Gulch Review.

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