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Sophia Heymans, Catherine Balaq, Caitlin Prouatt, Nancy Beauregard


THE VALLEY, SOPHIA HEYMANS
THE VALLEY, SOPHIA HEYMANS



I DID LOVE YOU ONCE

-Hamlet. William Shakespeare

Catherine Balaq


He didn’t come to the lake.

Said he would. Said he couldn’t.

She feels it then. She won’t be read

again. The Fates pull their own hair.

The book’s pages fall. Ripped

to the water, left wetted. Sink dirty.

She shivers. Closes. Imagines

a wound with arms unfolded,

holding her. It was lonely before—

she’d have said kiss me edgeless

reading the words to him, last brawl

of their shattered art. Each line cold

and glassy sharp as the last. Lost star—

no chance now of something good.

Be all my sins remembered.




AFTER I WAS AND THE BABY WAS NOT

Caitlin Prouatt


I said: ‘I feel in between,’ and he said,

‘You are not in between, you are not.’


I’d rather be in between, have a thing

I might aim for, condition in which I might be,

than be not, a definitive negative.


And although I am not, it does not

change the in-between feeling,

erstwhile optimism ebbing still,

repeating, ‘well, I was, that was real,

and I will be, I could be again.’


I would rather be subjunctive, with

the future tense off limits, I would

rather set my sights on future perfect.




ACTIAS LUNA

Nancy Beauregard


When May wildflowers wilt 

in our young daughter’s fist

I gather them into a Spider-


man coffee mug, cover torn

stems with well water

blow whispered prayers onto


drooping petals, skinned knees

promise that we will place

them on his grave—tomorrow


tell myself—again

that he’s not coming home.


He has left us for meadows

of spangled grass—

pine trees, dripping willow.


Does he ride a luna moth,

circle the naked bulb on our porch

filled with nicotine pollen?


At dusk, we sit in lawn chairs

watch bats leave the chimney

spread indigo wings—


pollinate the flower moon.


O Sappho, you speak of being 

quenched, but for me the 

chaos of love—


I miss. 

I miss. 

I miss.









Sophia Heymans was born in Minneapolis on the last day of the ’80s. She grew up on a family farm in Central Minnesota with her parents, sister, uncles, aunts and cousins. She was homeschooled throughout childhood, and became devoted to art-making from an early age. She attempts to paint landscapes from a non-dominant perspective and confront the weighted history of American Landscape painting. Sophia graduated from Rhode Island School of Design in 2012, and currently lives and works in Queens.


Catherine Balaq is a writer and body psychotherapist. Her work has been shortlisted for the Bridport Prize and nominated for the Pushcart and Forward Prize. Her poetry play 'Fuck the Moon' was commissioned by Paper Nations and short-listed for the Bristol Old Vic Open Sessions 2019. Catherine is working on her first novel, 'Halloweg' and is represented by Donald Winchester at Watson Little. She is co-editor of Black Cat Press. Catherine’s writing centres around themes of class, gender and the politics of the body. Her debut poetry collection 'animaginary' was published with Black Cat Press. Her second poetry collection 'Deathless' is published with Verve.


Caitlin Prouatt is a Brisbane-born, Oxford-based Latin and Greek teacher. When not tutoring or looking after her toddler, Caitlin writes poetry, with a particular interest in how rhythm can contribute to an image. She was shortlisted for the Spelt Nature Magazine Poetry Competition 2024, and her poetry has been featured in the Ekphrastic Review and the Dirigible Balloon.


Nancy Beauregard, MFA, is a legally blind poet from the high desert of Santa Fe, New Mexico. Her works have appeared in several publications and her chapbook, I Heard a Train (Finishing Line Press). Her most recent achievements include First Place National Winner in the Joe Gouveia Outermost Poetry Contest, plus first place in the Etched Onyx Magazine contest.

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