Back to Issue Thirteen.




A shower curtain pretends to be a forest w/
bark painted on no    birch exists 

in Brooklyn   no forests  I plant
a universe of moss in a broken 

light bulb     add in plasticsheep &
their keeper    I draw tarot cards 

from maman’s palm knowing
she can’t read her own blood 

(my fortune goes unannounced)
after rain I go out     to the streets

pick up snails     let them slink
up    & down my arms 

I mistake my neighbor’s
face on fire for the moon

Ines Pujos holds an MFA in Poetry from NYU and lives in the Bay Area. She coedits Print Oriented Bastards, an online literary journal. Her work is featured or forthcoming in Gulf Coast, Phantom Limb, Day One, Bone Bouquet, Cimarron Review, Hayden's Ferry Review, and Puerto del Sol. For more information, visit: