“[some mornings I wake to feel as if I have lattice wings” is one of two very flappy poems by Sally J. Johnson from our Spring 2015 issue.

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[SOME  MORNINGS  I  WAKE  TO  FEEL AS  IF  I  HAVE  LATTICE  WINGS
covering my mouth but come
to discover it is just the breath
of a lover pressed
tightly to my lips][a hand
stuck in a honey pot][some
mornings I find I have no feeling
in my legs because they’ve been pinned]
[put on display] [an emerald
encrusted beetle][but other days
I am swayed like a swallowtail
moth on a branch or moss
on bark][pulled through sleep
into stirring by skin on skin][kisses
that cover me completely
but do not bury me][the way

we allow ourselves to lie
down next to another
person capable of cruelty
is not a miracle][but it is
close to that][remember this
when in awe of a swath of butterflies
migrating over mountains][whole
generations][remember it
when the moon makes you gasp]

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SALLY J. JOHNSON received her MFA from the University of North Carolina at Wilmington where she served as Managing Editor for the award-winning literary journal Ecotone. Her poetry and nonfiction have appeared or are forthcoming in the Collagist, Bodega, the Pinch, Weave, So to Speak, Everyday Genius and elsewhere. She is a poetry editor for Green Briar Review and works as a publicist in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. Find her online: @sallyjayjohnson.