Jen Karetnick
False Veneer
An American sentence acrostic
Fissures form in yet another tooth, my fourth to crack
in the past years. Two during Rabbit. Two during Dragon.
The fracture this time is complete, and I have the choice of selecting
snowcaps to bridge several molars or a single alp to
appear in the gum, embedded. But the dentist believes that
in my "condition" I won't knit enough bone to keep
the underground fang of it pearled. Through his doubled
distance, I think I've misheard, ask him what he means.
"Oh," he says, "HIV patients often lose their implants."
This misdiagnosis—has it been re-sculpting me all this time? He's
slow to comprehend, but finally pulls down both masks to
reveal his own incisors, no longer worried that I'll break him, too.
Aubade for the Airplane Prairie; Or, a Divine Flow for Mangrove Tunnels
The cypress poke through riffling fog as if through surgical incisions. The mat of moisture rises of its own accord. As the sun diamonds, mist departs in scraps like an aroma. Airboat motors gunshot into the silence.
At Captain Mitch’s Airboat Tours, a huge male gator sentinels the parking lot. He rumbles, distant revving diesel, when we get too close.
During the lockdown, hundreds of thousands of people migrated to South Florida.
Invasive pythons can lay up to 100 eggs.
We are the only customers.
Skimming inches from
the bottom,
flat boats
mock
muck.
Cranes
crane
their bills
into the mud
to stir up a crab.
Mitch flies two American flags.
At the roseate spoonbill rookery, pink feathers kayak, eddy.
This past snake roundup, a five-foot gator was sliced from the belly of a seized python.
We zip through villages of mangroves. Each tree’s roots hoop above the water as if caught in permanent curtsies. Branches shroud with white ibis.
The vibrations disturb the more recent reptiles. Thunder. Engines. The kind of traffic our new compatriots complain about. This far inland, the water’s too fresh for the crocs and snakes. Alligators still, lounge in the freedom.
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| AUTHOR BIO |
| Jen Karetnick is the author of 12 collections of poetry, including Inheritance with a High Error Rate (January 2024), winner of the 2022 Cider Press Review Book Award and semi-finalist for the PSV 2025 North American Book Awards. Forthcoming books include What Forges Us Steel: The Judge Judy Poems (Alternating Current Press, 2025) and Domiciliary (Sheila-Na-Gig Editions, 2026). The co-founder and managing editor of SWWIM Every Day, she has recent or forthcoming work in Cimarron Review, NELLE, Pleiades, Plume, Seneca Review, Shenandoah, Sixth Finch, swamp pink, Verse Daily, and elsewhere. See
jkaretnick.com. |
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| POETRY CONTRIBUTORS |
 Melanie Figg
Taryn Frazier
Carol Lynn Stevenson Grellas
Julia Griffin
Katie Hartsock
Ruth Holzer
Jenny Isaacs
Jen Karetnick
Miriam N. Kotzin
Susan McLean
Ann E. Michael
Samantha Pious
Leslie Schultz
Janice D. Soderling
Laura Sweeney
Marly Youmans
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| Avila Gray is a self-taught illustrator, specialising in fine ink pen and watercolour paintings. Avi is based in Sydney, Australia, where she operates a stationery business called Erlenmeyer, selling art prints, greeting cards, playing cards, stickers and colouring books. Erlenmeyer is also the name of Avi's storytelling animal kingdom; a futuristic utopia where sentient creatures live in harmony across 12 cities on Earth. All of the compositions from her illustrative range depict snapshots from this story; her body of work shows the animal characters that colour the Erlenmeyer world, as well as their culture, values and how they live. Avi has been selling her illustrations and products since 2014 and became a resident at Australia’s iconic Rocks Market for many years, developing a loyal customer base and social media following. After several years of trade shows in Sydney and London, her designs can now be found in more than 80 shops worldwide. Many of Avi's designs are licensed by the international greeting card company, Moonpig.
For additional information, please visit www.erlenmeyer.com.au.
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