By Miles Dennis You were born, one among many, and from the very start You were never alone Your mother and your siblings were all you knew A dune of moving fur to roll on and wrestle with Though you hurt each other On needle-teeth Bites and scratches Your orange coats never showed red Because it was all play, your children’s games And one day they were gone They picked you up and Carried you away and They were frightening and You missed mother and All your brethren and yet The ones who took you Loved you all the same They held you and Sat for hours in that warm…
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The Haircut
By Mario Jose F Vinoya Content Warning: animal abuse It was January 31, 2022, a bright sunny Monday over the city of Anchorage, with cold winds of 10 degrees. I was only supposed to be gone for an hour and a half, only to get a haircut from my friend during the early morning of 11 am. The haircut was supposed to be a new change for me, as I was starting in-person on the school campus the following week. I had excitement in my stomach to meet new people and try a new look. I was done with these thin strands of Asian hair on my head because it…
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The World Before Me
By Zoe A two part poem. Anemoia (n.) nostalgia for a time you have never known. The first mountain to grow The first river to flow Carving the first pathway When the sky blue not gray Exploring the first valley So rich and wealthy I dream it, I yearn For a time I’ve never known When the earth formed Raging weather stormed I’m sure that was a sight to see Back when the world was free The rise of forests Before the existence of tourists I wish I saw the Great Fire And I’m not saying it to be satire Or the Great Flood gate open When glaciers used to…
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The Call of Midnight
By Josie Martin Harken ye who travel while you rest, the time for adventuring is now at its best! Quickly now, go forth my friends, before our nightly time of questing ends.
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Alaska
By Steve Rubinstein A woman on her way to a barn with two buckets- one empty for warm foaming milk- one yesterday’s dinner for pigs. Behind her a girl only dreaming a cow all her own beneath which to kneel warm dung. moist hay touching softly the udder to hum. Before them a cow one horn turned down, black fur as a moon-poor night, yellow stripe down her length behind her a calf looking forward. Up here is a farm owned by a woman no longer sleeping in Winter worried when darkness runs snowed ridges her cow chewing cud in the cold.
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Stinky Pete
By Raina Panarese Back in the late ’90s, there was a student named Stinky Pete. When Pete moved here from Vermont, he was ordinary, but his mind and personal hygiene were forever altered after he unintentionally poisoned himself with amanita muscariamushrooms. He caught a beaver up in Trapper Creek and brought it back to the city to keep as a pet. Pete hosted wild parties off campus to show it off, and I remember seeing Pete’s beaver scurry behind the couch where I was sitting. After Pete released the beaver unharmed, beavers became permanent residents of University Lake.
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Winter’s Playing
By Josie Martin Here at home, winter’s playing. Outside smells cold as fall grows old. The mountain is the backdrop— snow is our only prop.
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How Do I Cope?
By Anonymous The Ups and Downs compare nothing…. to the fear felt in my body when you tell me I’m overreacting, depth of my pain when I’m forced to pick a side, The mystery of being once the peaceful majority to the silenced minority, Knowing your home and watching it fade, Understanding that my life is a privilege and not one I control, The Ups and Downs compare nothing to being Native, Where everyone is willing to stare but few willing to care.
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Raising a Child in a Pandemic
By Dave Onofrychuk “Hey Dad,” says my son, now seven. “There’s a new Lego Mario set, and guess what?” “Chicken butt,” I say. “It’s not like the kids’ set. It’s for adults. And guess what?” “Chicken butt.” “It’s a big box—you know, like the question mark boxes in the game? And guess what?” “Chicken butt.” “You open up the top, and there are three platforms that come out of it—you know, like out of the top of it? And guess what?” “Chicken butt.” “There’s a castle level, and an ice level, and the level with a bunch of bombs and bomb stuff. And guess what? Dad. Hey Dad. Dad. Dad.…
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Sugar Cookies
By Zoe May Making sugar cookies is a delicate art. They have to be soft and buttery and sweet. You start with flour and powder and sugar; the most important part! Then roll them and mold them and lay them on a cookie sheet. Then we wait for them to bake, at least it is faster than a tart. When the timer dings we can finally feast. After all, food is the way to the heart, so enjoy this special treat.
