Nov/Dec 2015 • Vol. XXXVII No. 6 Poetry |

After a Lynching Postcard, with the Lynchings Chemically Removed

"Look away, look away, Dixie Land!"     —"Dixie," Confederate States national anthem, 1859-1865 Look, it's just a picnic, they say. It's just summer. Look, they say, what we have made for you. There is sunlight here. And you deserve it. Light golden enough to take to the bank. There are daffodils and green grass. We have made this for you with our hands. Look at our hands, they say. There is nothing to hide. But you look closer and see, in the photo, two shadows staining the ground. Two shadows attached to no one. Two holes deep in the dirt. And you wonder if they are entrances or maybe the shadows of something higher, something already leaving. Already gone. Yes, those are just birds, they say. Smudges of flight. Defects of the camera, they say. A product of its time. Yes. This is all a product of the times. Look at the sunlight, they say. How it falls right through. These are the people. This is their story. Look at what we're able to preserve with our hands, they s

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Geometry of Echo

By Christopher Kondrich

"Look away, look away, Dixie Land!"     —"Dixie," Confederate States national anthem, 1859-1865 Look, it's just a picnic, they say. It's just summer. Look, they say, what we have made for […]

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