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Other notable work by Anthony Gornic.

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Molly Cappiello-

Big Muck

Go past the cull piles
behind Viganeri’s barn
and as far north
as Transit Road takes you,
where gravel gives way to weeds
and kill deer cease
their motherly screeching.

The rambling drone of
thunder three counties over
and the too close quibbling
of insects fighting for the
biggest piece of
hard-to-scratch pie
fill this horizontal chasm.

The harvester cannot
reach this far for fear of
getting stuck and
I find myself relating to
machinery.

Dead ends
do not stop only tires.

_______________

Georgia O’Keefe: Cow Skull

Georgia, Georgia,
tell me how your
garden grows-
from bones,
seeds of flesh and
personality,
little doe-eyed
brown cow,
now empty sockets
staring beside
the desert daisies,
nurtured by
still life hands,
placed lovingly
alongside
death in the
New Mexico sand.

_______________

Hard Places

It’s a bomb with two red wires,
nightmares in midwinter Alaska,
endless—

the phone ringing at 3 am and
screeching tires when the dog’s
escaped the leash.

It’s a handstand with your ankles
bolted to the ceiling
blood rushing.

A cherry that’s all pit,
a hangnail down to the knuckle.

It’s the bottom of the stairs,
5 seconds from the top
instead of the usual 46

and being on the wrong
side of a locked door,
outside a window
only open to let you
hear the glass smashing
into the sink.

These are hard places
but you are the rock.

_______________

Call Your Father

Lying supine on the back
deck I observe the old dairy
wind chimes,
iron heifers herding themselves
with tiny clangs.

It was a going away present
from my father,
hooks in the wall
holding a mobile of my
aspirations and his faith,
catching the breeze to
remind me of the things
I haven’t done
these five years since.

Mosquitos outnumber
fireflies here like an
aviary irony,
driving me back indoors
to a waiting telephone.

_______________

Fiddle Thrums Speak Louder Than You Ever Did

Rolling chords
crawl up from
the stage,
calming the tremors
in my chest and
putting Sisyphus
and his boulder to shame.

They quiet the
things I spend
my days running
against and away from,
an uphill creep
whose mark of progress
is a stagnant
“I’m still alive.”

But you,
selfish man,
with an Ellis Island
hand-me-down
so close to mine
made it more.

Sandpaper voice,
you softened my edges
but left before
the finished product.

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Molly Cappiello is a graduate of the Creative Writing program at the State University of New York at Oswego where she was editor and treasurer for the college’s literary magazine, The Great Lake Review. Her concentration is in poetry and non-fiction with which she would like to continue a career in publishing and editing.

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Anthony Gornic-

Take Two

I sit face to face
with Lazarus discussing
second chances

I belittle him
for not working
for his

For simply
waking
into it

For receiving a
gift that
was unearned

_______________

Wake Up

I stared out
the window as
the sun began to rise

The lawns green grass
glistened in its
warm welcoming wake

Sending a message
to all onlookers
spring has arrived

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Anthony Gornic graduated from SUNY Oswego in August of 2015. He currently lives in a small town outside of Albany with his pug and two cats. When he is not writing he can be found hiking the many mountains of New York.

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