There’s a Winehouse In Your Soul

by J. Bradley

The gravity of Sambuca
alters migration patterns.

Yesterday, a name smacked
against the window, the bleed
of each letter a trickle.

Today, a comma guts
the hot water heater.
Refrigerator shelves pang.

Tomorrow is a phone booth
with a broken door.

J. Bradley is the author of the forthcoming graphic poetry collection The Bones of Us (YesYes Books, 2014). He lives at iheartfailure.net.

Word from the Editor

Our stories can be difficult, sometimes impossible, to tell. In her essay “Alone in Company,” Chelsea Bayouth reflects on the role of an artist at the end of 2018: “For me, it is to fear that every word or image is a window into public, political, and social tumult. It means you have to be more vulnerable than you or anyone in times previous has ever been.” If we continue to write, to paint, to dance, to show up for ourselves and our art every day, we might find that our work transcends ambiguity and discomfort to reveal a greater insight into ourselves, and if we are lucky, into the world.