Summer 2023 • Vol. XLV No. 1 PoetryJune 14, 2023 |

Aquarium Glass

When our colony of streaming astronauts adrift in undulation became wind-filled sails beneath the manta’s flight, we gathered our boats to watch the sea anemone’s solitary polyps morph into the Coronate medusa, the jewelry of our human form dissolve behind aquarium glass like Pelagia noctiluca, who light up only when touched, or at night, a chimera of silica needles coiling from its scarlet bell. Tell me, which century was our scarlet bell —  when our colony of streaming astronauts adrift in undulation became wind-filled sails beneath the manta’s flight and we gathered our boats to watch the sea anemone’s solitary polyps morph into Coronate medusas, the jewelry of our human form dissolve.

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Jennifer Elise Foerster is the author of three books of poetry, most recently The Maybe-Bird (The Song Cave, 2022), and served as the associate editor of When the Light of the World Was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through: A Norton Anthology of Native Nations Poetry (W. W. Norton, 2020). She is the recipient of an NEA Creative Writing Fellowship, and a Lannan Foundation Writing Residency Fellowship, and was a Wallace Stegner Fellow in Poetry at Stanford. A member of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation of Oklahoma, she lives in San Francisco.

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