Qua Literary and Fine Arts Magazine, Winter 2022

Saturday Noodle
PRISCILLA ATKINS
But was sleep pilled, or legitimate?
The crow on the pine’s got Kafka caught in his throat.
Spit it out, man.
There’s something pinched about Nadine Gordimer.
Or maybe it’s me.
I think she’s just old. And wearing a red coat.
Hip hip hooray! She has a relish tray!
Sardines will show you how they want to be cut. (Just ask.)
The elementary classmate’s house where all the kids slept in one bed.
Sometimes one night is all it takes.
Becoming Bonsai
VICKY DAWSON
That color works for you, in a shoulder-to-the-wheel sort of way.
OMG: Karen Carpenter’s father speaking of his daughter’s death—channeling
W.C. Fields.
Dare you not to bite something.
In an artist’s hands
Copper wire twists and turns, shaped with an eye
To mimic nature’s beauty–
Beauty crafted by instinct to survive
The most inhospitable of spaces.
Yet, so small. So complete.
An artistic rendition
Sits in the palm of my hand.
I marvel and wonder.
I too must learn how to do this.
24 | Poetry Poetry | 25