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Some Nights We Have the Moon

Runner-up in the 2019 Ada Limón Autumn Poetry Contest

There are no swans here, just corn / and potatoes pushing past small- / town dirt. I want to be done / with want, so I tell my feet / to stalk the wheat

Poetry by L. Renée

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The Man from the Egg

I had been just as surprised as one might expect when, at the age of ten, while making breakfast one morning, I cracked open what I thought was a normal chicken egg and found, covered in egg white, a tiny naked man—full head of hair, a Roman nose, strong tightly-muscled arms. So statuesque, lying prone in my mixing bowl.

Fiction by Michael Mau

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2031

If that cross had a story, what would it be? / Copper wolves devouring my eggs, / or all my daughters raptured to nowhere?

Poetry by Meg Reynolds

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