Issue Thirty-Four - Summer 2019


By Carol R. Sunde

When champagne is needed,
I suggest cod liver oil:
in a string quartet,
I am a gate-crashing tuba.

When others smile,
I often smirk:
in a bowlful of sweet plums,
I am a fiery radish.

Among nasturtiums,
I am a thistle.
Yet some few do
appreciate me―

certain goats and sheep
in spring, and songbirds
when I have gone to seed—

Copyright 2019 Sunde