Audio Feature: T. De Los Reyes (Shō No. 6)
Dear Ryuichi, I live in a universe where / the sound of rain is your fingers tinkering / with the keys.
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Established in 2002, revived in 2023

Dear Ryuichi, I live in a universe where / the sound of rain is your fingers tinkering / with the keys.

you beautiful beautiful stupid haunted girl / you lawless thief of daddy’s face and mummy’s grief / you daughter of the pomeroon

prepared to be bare chested for the first / time in public. Fear I’ll be breaking / some cardinal rules.

praise: for the sisters putting on rubber suits for each other / praise: for preparing the day’s catch with soy sauce & pan-fried onions

My excised uterus cramps with a phantom / womb’s labor pain, hard as that is to fathom.

I think I'm tiring of auditioning. / I'm not dancing for bread anymore.

and the foreman was afraid / I could cut off a finger or 2

How quickly we adapt, water carving / a vein in earth.

Tanya Rastogi is an artist and writer from Iowa. Her work is published or forthcoming in the Adroit Journal, Gone Lawn, and others and has been recognized by the Scholastic Awards, Adroit Prizes, and NCTE. She is the founding editor of the Seraphic Review. In her free time, she enjoys nature walks and cute cafés. …

Rolling fields kiss the edges of town, farmland / lying flat and fallow like the rest of us.

There's a certain surrender / to being an optimist—one which begins / with the day but, in fact, begins // with the evening.

When I say moon, I recall brown calves lowing / at night, sheltered under their mothers' calm grace / in star-studded pastures.

We’re all something else / to someone else. Maybe he became better, a person / who hated sharing a body with the person he used to be.

the turkeys arrive while I’m deciphering / the if this, then that of taxes.

"I was thinking a lot about human mortality and environmental catastrophe, and how we all are momentary in the world"

a name is a pillar. a name is a post.

After her death, she returns to me as a black goat.

One / becomes my aunt. Enter AUNT in wide / angle shots. Flickers form infinite / possibilities cast on that screen.


as abecedarian. Beehive. Corner cabinet, desk / detritus. Earthshine. Faultline. As gristle and gall.

It’s true—the scene is charged / with a heat surpassing what I endured to arrive here.

“This poem is one of many calls and/or responses to the poet Megan Merchant. Our co-authored collection A Slow Indwelling comes out Fall 2024 from Harbor Editions and deals with a father and mother wrestling through cultural violence, the fragility of childhood, the preciousness of a parents love, and the beauty and pain expressed through the natural world.”

This poem is part of a larger epistolary exchange, "A Slow Indwelling", with Luke Johnson, and will be published this fall with Harbor Editions.

I’m more broken than I’ve ever been. / This shell of a body, emptied / and longing.